first epilogue-第16部分

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trying　to　imagine　Karataev's　opinion　on　the　subject。　〃He　would　not

have　understood。。。　yet　perhaps　he　would。〃

　　〃I　love　you　awfully！〃　Natasha　suddenly　said。　〃Awfully；　awfully！〃

　　〃No；　he　would　not　have　approved；〃　said　Pierre；　after　reflection。

〃What　he　would　have　approved　of　is　our　family　life。　He　was　always　so

anxious　to　find　seemliness；　happiness；　and　peace　in　everything；　and

I　should　have　been　proud　to　let　him　see　us。　There　now…　you　talk　of

my　absence；　but　you　wouldn't　believe　what　a　special　feeling　I　have　for

you　after　a　separation。。。。〃

　　〃Yes；　I　should　think。。。〃　Natasha　began。

　　〃No；　it's　not　that。　I　never　leave　off　loving　you。　And　one　couldn't

love　more；　but　this　is　something　special。。。。　Yes；　of　course…〃　he　did

not　finish　because　their　eyes　meeting　said　the　rest。

　　〃What　nonsense　it　is；〃　Natasha　suddenly　exclaimed；　〃about

honeymoons；　and　that　the　greatest　happiness　is　at　first！　On　the

contrary；　now　is　the　best　of　all。　If　only　you　did　not　go　away！　Do

you　remember　how　we　quarreled？　And　it　was　always　my　fault。　Always

mine。　And　what　we　quarreled　about…　I　don't　even　remember！〃

　　〃Always　about　the　same　thing；〃　said　Pierre　with　a　smile。　〃Jealo。。。〃

　　〃Don't　say　it！　I　can't　bear　it！〃　Natasha　cried；　and　her　eyes

glittered　coldly　and　vindictively。　〃Did　you　see　her？〃　she　added；　after

a　pause。

　　〃No；　and　if　I　had　I　shouldn't　have　recognized　her。〃

　　They　were　silent　for　a　while。

　　〃Oh；　do　you　know？　While　you　were　talking　in　the　study　I　was

looking　at　you；〃　Natasha　began；　evidently　anxious　to　disperse　the

cloud　that　had　come　over　them。　〃You　are　as　like　him　as　two　peas…

like　the　boy。〃　（She　meant　her　little　son。）　〃Oh；　it's　time　to　go　to

him。。。。　The　milk's　come。。。。　But　I'm　sorry　to　leave　you。〃

　　They　were　silent　for　a　few　seconds。　Then　suddenly　turning　to　one

another　at　the　same　time　they　both　began　to　speak。　Pierre　began　with

self…satisfaction　and　enthusiasm；　Natasha　with　a　quiet；　happy　smile。

Having　interrupted　one　another　they　both　stopped　to　let　the　other

continue。

　　〃No。　What　did　you　say？　Go　on；　go　on。〃

　　〃No；　you　go　on；　I　was　talking　nonsense；〃　said　Natasha。

　　Pierre　finished　what　he　had　begun。　It　was　the　sequel　to　his

complacent　reflections　on　his　success　in　Petersburg。　At　that　moment　it

seemed　to　him　that　he　was　chosen　to　give　a　new　direction　to　the

whole　of　Russian　society　and　to　the　whole　world。

　　〃I　only　wished　to　say　that　ideas　that　have　great　results　are

always　simple　ones。　My　whole　idea　is　that　if　vicious　people　are　united

and　constitute　a　power；　then　honest　folk　must　do　the　same。　Now

that's　simple　enough。〃

　　〃Yes。〃

　　〃And　what　were　you　going　to　say？〃

　　〃I？　Only　nonsense。〃

　　〃But　all　the　same？〃

　　〃Oh　nothing；　only　a　trifle；〃　said　Natasha；　smilingly　still　more

brightly。　〃I　only　wanted　to　tell　you　about　Petya：　today　nurse　was

coming　to　take　him　from　me；　and　he　laughed；　shut　his　eyes；　and　clung

to　me。　I'm　sure　he　thought　he　was　hiding。　Awfully　sweet！　There；　now

he's　crying。　Well；　good…by！〃　and　she　left　the　room。



　　Meanwhile　downstairs　in　young　Nicholas　Bolkonski's　bedroom　a

little　lamp　was　burning　as　usual。　（The　boy　was　afraid　of　the　dark

and　they　could　not　cure　him　of　it。）　Dessalles　slept　propped　up　on　four

pillows　and　his　Roman　nose　emitted　sounds　of　rhythmic　snoring。

Little　Nicholas；　who　had　just　waked　up　in　a　cold　perspiration；　sat

up　in　bed　and　gazed　before　him　with　wide…open　eyes。　He　had　awaked　from

a　terrible　dream。　He　had　dreamed　that　he　and　Uncle　Pierre；　wearing

helmets　such　as　were　depicted　in　his　Plutarch；　were　leading　a　huge

army。　The　army　was　made　up　of　white　slanting　lines　that　filled　the　air

like　the　cobwebs　that　float　about　in　autumn　and　which　Dessalles　called

les　fils　de　la　Vierge。　In　front　was　Glory；　which　was　similar　to

those　threads　but　rather　thicker。　He　and　Pierre　were　borne　along

lightly　and　joyously；　nearer　and　nearer　to　their　goal。　Suddenly　the

threads　that　moved　them　began　to　slacken　and　become　entangled　and　it

grew　difficult　to　move。　And　Uncle　Nicholas　stood　before　them　in　a

stern　and　threatening　attitude。

　　〃Have　you　done　this？〃　he　said；　pointing　to　some　broken　sealing　wax

and　pens。　〃I　loved　you；　but　I　have　orders　from　Arakcheev　and　will　kill

the　first　of　you　who　moves　forward。〃　Little　Nicholas　turned　to　look　at

Pierre　but　Pierre　was　no　longer　there。　In　his　place　was　his　father…

Prince　Andrew…　and　his　father　had　neither　shape　nor　form；　but　he

existed；　and　when　little　Nicholas　perceived　him　he　grew　faint　with

love：　he　felt　himself　powerless；　limp；　and　formless。　His　father

caressed　and　pitied　him。　But　Uncle　Nicholas　came　nearer　and　nearer

to　them。　Terror　seized　young　Nicholas　and　he　awoke。

　　〃My　father！〃　he　thought。　（Though　there　were　two　good　portraits　of

Prince　Andrew　in　the　house；　Nicholas　never　imagined　him　in　human

form。）　〃My　father　has　been　with　me　and　caressed　me。　He　approved　of

me　and　of　Uncle　Pierre。　Whatever　he　may　tell　me；　I　will　do　it。

Mucius　Scaevola　burned　his　hand。　Why　should　not　the　same　sort　of　thing

happen　to　me？　I　know　they　want　me　to　learn。　And　I　will　learn。　But

someday　I　shall　have　finished　learning；　and　then　I　will　do

something。　I　only　pray　God　that　something　may　happen　to　me　such　as

happened　to　Plutarch's　men；　and　I　will　act　as　they　did。　I　will　do

better。　Everyone　shall　know　me；　love　me；　and　be　delighted　with　me！〃

And　suddenly　his　bosom　heaved　with　sobs　and　he　began　to　cry。

　　〃Are　you　ill？〃　he　heard　Dessalles'　voice　asking。

　　〃No；〃　answered　Nicholas；　and　lay　back　on　his　pillow。

　　〃He　is　good　and　kind　and　I　am　fond　of　him！〃　he　thought　of　Dessalles。

〃But　Uncle　Pierre！　Oh；　what　a　wonderful　man　he　is！　And　my　father？

Oh；　Father；　Father！　Yes；　I　will　do　something　with　which　even　he

would　be　satisfied。。。。〃