Like all men who have grown up in society Prince Andrey was pleased when he encountered something in that world that did not carry the usual society stamp. And Natasha was exactly that, with her sense of wonder, her enthusiasm, her diffidence and even the mistakes she made when she spoke French. His manner was particularly gentle and solicitous as he escorted her and talked to her. Sitting at her side, chatting about the simplest things, nothing in particular, Prince Andrey admired the radiant brilliance of her eyes and her smile, which had nothing to do with what she was saying but came from her own inner happiness. Natasha was chosen again and again, and whenever she got up with a smile and went off to dance, Prince Andrey particularly admired the mixture of timidity and gracefulness that she presented. In the middle of the cotillion Natasha was on her way back to her place, breathless at the end of a figure, when she was chosen yet again by another partner. Tired and panting, she demurred for an instant, on the point of refusing, but immediately put her hand on her partner’s shoulder, beaming joyfully at Prince Andrey.
‘I’d have been glad to have a rest and sit next to you. I am tired, but you see how they keep asking me, and I’m so pleased and happy, and I love everyone, including you, and I know all about it,’ said the smile and more, much more besides. When her partner left her side, Natasha dashed across the room to choose two ladies for the next figure.
‘If she goes to her cousin first and then to another lady, she’s going to be my wife,’ Prince Andrey said to himself – much to his own surprise – as he watched her. She went to her cousin first.
‘The stupid things that sometimes come into your mind!’ thought Prince Andrey. ‘But one thing’s for sure – that girl is so lovely and so unusual she’ll be married before she’s been out for a month since dancing here . . . She’s something quite exceptional,’ he thought, as Natasha seated herself beside him, adjusting a stray rose on her bodice.
At the end of the cotillion the old count in his blue swallowtail coat came over to the young people who had been dancing. He invited Prince Andrey to come and see them and asked his daughter whether she was having a good time. At first Natasha didn’t answer; she just smiled a gently reproachful smile that said, ‘How could you ask a question like that?’ Then she said, ‘I’m having the best time of my whole life!’ and Prince Andrey watched as she half-raised her slender arms as if to embrace her father, and dropped them again at once. Natasha was indeed having the happiest time of her life. She was at the very peak of happiness, when a person is transformed into someone completely good and kind, and rejects the slightest possibility of evil, misery and grief.
It was at this ball that Pierre felt humiliated for the first time by the position his wife now occupied in the highest court circles. He was sullen and distracted. A deep furrow lined his forehead as he stood by a window, staring out over his spectacles and seeing no one. Natasha passed by near to him on her way to supper. She was struck by Pierre’s dark and miserable appearance. She stopped and turned to face him. She so much wanted to help him, to let him have some of her own overflowing happiness. ‘What a lovely evening, Count,’ she said, ‘isn’t it?’
Pierre gave a faraway smile, obviously not taking in what she was saying. ‘Yes, I’m very glad,’ he said.
‘How could anybody be unhappy with anything tonight?’ thought Natasha. ‘Especially someone as nice as Bezukhov.’
In Natasha’s eyes the people at the ball were all the same – nice, kind, beautiful people – and they all loved each other. Nobody would think of harming anybody else, so they must be happy, all of them.
CHAPTER 18
Next day Prince Andrey remembered the ball, but not for very long. ‘Yes, it was a splendid ball,’ he thought. ‘And . . . oh yes, that Rostov girl is so sweet. There’s something fresh about her, something unusual and distinctive – she doesn’t seem to belong to Petersburg.’ Then, with no further thoughts about yesterday’s ball, he had a good drink of tea and got down to work.
But either from tiredness or lack of sleep he was in no mood for work, and he couldn’t get anything done. He was for ever carping about his own work – something he often did – and he was delighted when he heard that someone had called to see him.
