‘Sir, sir, it’s a great sin to talk like that, and you with a son!’ she said, her pallor changing suddenly to bright red. ‘Sir, may God forgive what you have said.’ She crossed herself. ‘May the Lord forgive him. Lady, what have we come to?’ She turned to Princess Marya, got to her feet on the verge of tears and began picking up her little bag. She was obviously shocked and saddened by Andrey’s words, full of shame for having accepted charity in a house where such things could be said, and sorry that from now on she would have to do without the charity offered here.
‘What was all that about?’ said Princess Marya. ‘Why did you come in here?’
‘Oh, come on, it was only a joke, Pelageyushka,’ said Pierre. ‘Princess, honestly, I didn’t mean to upset her. I just . . . Please forget it. It was a joke,’ he said with a diffident smile, trying to smooth things over and ease his conscience.
Pelageyushka stood there full of misgivings, but there was such a look of genuine regret on Pierre’s face, and Prince Andrey seemed so meek and solemn as he glanced from her to Pierre, that she was gradually reassured.
CHAPTER 14
Reassured at last, the pilgrim woman was encouraged to talk, and she launched into some long stories, first about Father Amphilochus, whose life was so holy that his hands smelt of incense, and then about some monks she knew who had given her the keys to the catacombs on her recent pilgrimage to Kiev, and she had spent two days and nights in the catacombs among the saints with only a few crusts of bread. ‘I says my prayers to one of them, I reads from the scriptures and then goes on to another one. I has a little nap, then I goes back to kiss the holy relics, and there’s such peace, dearie, such blessedness, you never wants to come out into God’s world again.’
Pierre listened with close and grave attention. Prince Andrey left the room. And then Princess Marya followed him out and took Pierre to the drawing-room, leaving the Servants of God to finish their tea.
‘You’re so kind,’ she said to him.
‘Oh, I really didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. I know those feelings, and I value them highly.’
Princess Marya looked at him, saying nothing but smiling with affection.
‘I’ve known you such a long time, haven’t I? And I love you like a brother,’ she said. ‘How does Andrey strike you?’ she followed on quickly, leaving him no time for a response to her warm words. ‘He worries me. His health was better in the winter, but last spring his wound reopened, and the doctor told him to go away for proper treatment. And I worry about him in a moral sense. He doesn’t have the kind of personality, like us women, to express his suffering and sorrow in tears. He bottles it all up. Today he is lively and cheerful. But that’s your visit – it’s already had an effect on him. He’s not like this very often. If only you could persuade him to go abroad. He needs to be kept busy and this steady, quiet life is getting him down. Others don’t notice it, but I can see it.’
It was nearly ten o’clock when the footmen rushed to the steps, hearing the old prince’s carriage bells approaching. Prince Andrey went out on to the steps, and Pierre followed.
‘Who’s this?’ asked the old prince, as he got out of the carriage and caught sight of Pierre.
‘Ah! Pleased to see you! Kiss me!’ he said when they told him who the young stranger was.
The old prince was in good spirits and he felt like being nice to Pierre.
Before supper, Prince Andrey returned to his father’s study to find the old prince and Pierre having a heated discussion. Pierre was arguing that a time would come when there would be no more war. The old prince was enjoying a bit of good-humoured teasing.
‘Drain all the blood out of men’s veins and fill ’em up with water, then there’ll be no more war. Women’s talk. Women’s talk,’ he was saying, but he still gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as he walked across to the table where Prince Andrey, happy enough to keep out of their conversation, was looking through some papers that the old prince had brought back from town. The old prince went over to him and began to talk business.
‘That marshal, that Count Rostov, didn’t send me half his contingent. Came to town and thought he’d invite me to dinner – I gave him dinner all right! . . . Anyway, look at this . . . Well, my boy,’ said the old prince to his son, clapping Pierre on the shoulder, ‘your friend is a good man. I like him! Gets me going. Some people talk sense and you can’t bear to listen – he talks balderdash but he gets me going, an old man like me! Well go on, off you go,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ll come and sit with you while you have supper. We’ll have another argument. Try to like my ignorant girl, Princess Marya!’ he shouted after Pierre from the doorway.
