‘Off you go, go and see him. He’s asking for your hand,’ said the countess – coldly, it seemed to Natasha . . . ‘Go on . . . off you go . . .’ her mother murmured with a mixture of sadness and disapproval, and she gave a deep sigh as her daughter ran off.
Natasha had no recollection of entering the drawing-room. As she came in and caught sight of him, she stopped short. ‘This stranger, has he suddenly become
‘I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you. May I hope?’ He glanced up at her and was struck by the solemn look on her passionate face, a face that seemed to say, ‘Why do you ask? What’s the point in feeling doubtful when you can’t possibly know? What’s the point in talking when words can’t express your feelings?’
She came a little nearer, and stopped. He took her hand and kissed it.
‘Do you love me?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Natasha, with something near to impatience. She gave a deep sigh, then another, then the sighs came faster and faster until she burst into sobs.
‘What is it? Is there anything wrong?’
‘Oh, I am so happy,’ she answered, smiling through her tears. She leant closer, thought for a second, as though wondering whether all this was really happening, and then kissed him.
Prince Andrey held her hand and gazed into her eyes, though in his heart he felt no trace of his former love for her. A change had come over his inner being. Gone was the former desire with all its poetry and mysterious charm. Now all he felt was pity for her feminine and childish frailty, dismay at her devotion and willingness to trust, and the hard, sweet taste of duty that must bind him to her for ever. This new feeling may have been less glorious and poetical, but it was stronger and more serious than before.
‘Did your mamma tell you it cannot happen for a year?’ said Prince Andrey, still gazing into her eyes.
‘Is this really me, the “slip of a girl” that everyone used to call me?’ Natasha was thinking. ‘Am I really a
‘No,’ she answered, without having understood his question.
‘Please forgive me,’ said Prince Andrey, ‘but you’re so young, and I’ve had so much experience. I’m afraid for you. You don’t know yourself yet.’
Natasha concentrated hard on what he was saying, but she couldn’t get the meaning of his words.
‘Hard as that year will be for me, delaying my happiness,’ continued Prince Andrey, ‘you will use that time to make sure you know your own mind. I am asking you to make me a happy man in a year’s time, but you are free – we shall keep our engagement secret – and if you were to find out you don’t really love me, or if you fell in love with . . .’ said Prince Andrey with a forced smile.
‘Why are you saying all this?’ Natasha interrupted. ‘You know I’ve loved you since the day you first came to Otradnoye,’ she said, certain she was telling the truth.
‘In a year you’ll learn all about yourself . . .’
‘A who-ole year!’ Natasha burst out, realizing for the first time that the wedding was to be delayed for a year. ‘But why wait a year? . . . Why wait a year?’
Prince Andrey began to explain the reasons for the delay. Natasha wasn’t listening.
‘Is there no other way?’ she asked. Prince Andrey said nothing in reply, but the impossibility of changing this decision was written on his face.
‘Oh, that’s awful! It’s absolutely awful!’ Natasha cried suddenly, breaking into sobs again. ‘I’ll die if I have to wait a year. It’s impossible. It’s awful.’ She glanced at the face of her husband-to-be and saw his look of bewilderment and deep sympathy.
‘No, it’s all right, I’ll do anything,’ she said, suddenly in control of her tears, ‘I’m so happy!’
Her father and mother came in and gave the engaged couple their blessing. From that day on Prince Andrey visited the Rostovs as Natasha’s fiancé.
CHAPTER 24
