War And Peace полностью

‘I’ve been calling for you . . . all night . . .’ he managed to say.

‘If only I’d known . . .’ she said, through her tears. ‘I was scared to come in.’

He squeezed her hand.

‘Weren’t you asleep?’

‘No, I couldn’t sleep,’ said Princess Marya, shaking her head.

Instinctively following her father, she was even speaking like him and gesturing with sign language, as if she could not get her words out.

‘Dear girl!’ Or was it, ‘darling! . . .’? Princess Marya could not tell, but the look in his eyes told her beyond doubt it was something full of warmth and affection that she had never heard from him before.

‘Why didn’t you come?’

‘And all I wanted was for him to die!’ thought Princess Marya.

There was a short silence.

‘Thank you . . . my dear daughter . . . for everything . . . Forgive me . . . Thank you . . . Please forgive me . . .’ And tears ran down from his eyes. ‘Bring Andrey,’ he blurted out, though even as he spoke a look of childish shyness and uncertainty came over his face. He seemed to realize his request was meaningless. Or so she thought.

‘I’ve had a letter from him,’ answered Princess Marya.

He seemed taken aback and he gave another shy glance.

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s with the army, Father, at Smolensk.’

He was silent for some time now, lying there with his eyes closed. Then he rallied as if challenged by his own doubts, and, anxious to convince them he could remember and understand, he nodded and opened his eyes.

‘Oh yes,’ he said, softly but distinctly. ‘Russia’s gone! Done for!’

And again he was convulsed with sobs, and tears ran down from his eyes. It was too much for Princess Marya; she wept with him, looking him in the face.

He closed his eyes again. He had stopped sobbing. He pointed to his eyes, and Tikhon, quick on the uptake, wiped his tears away.

Then he opened his eyes and said something that no one could understand for quite some time, until Tikhon finally picked it up and told them.

Princess Marya was looking for a meaning in the way he had been speaking a few minutes earlier. It must surely be something about Russia, or was it Prince Andrey, her, his grandson, his imminent death? This was why she could not work out what he was saying.

‘Put your white dress on. I like it,’ he had said.

When she understood these words Princess Marya sobbed louder than ever, so the doctor took her by the arm and walked her out on to the terrace, calming her down and reminding her she had to get ready for the journey. When Princess Marya had gone, the prince started talking again about his son, the war and the Tsar. His eyebrows twitched with anger, his croaky voice got louder, and this was when he had his second and final stroke.

Princess Marya stayed out on the terrace. Morning had broken into a day of hot sunshine. She could take nothing in, think of nothing, and feel nothing beyond her passionate love for her father, a love that seemed to have escaped her understanding until this moment. She hurried out into the garden sobbing, and ran down the paths between Prince Andrey’s recently planted lime-trees that led to the pond.

‘Oh no . . . I was . . . I . . . I was longing for him to die! Yes, I wanted to get it over and done with . . . I wanted some peace for myself . . . And now what’s going to happen to me? What can I do with peace when he’s gone?’ Princess Marya murmured out loud, tripping rapidly through the garden, and holding her hands to her chest, which was racked with convulsive sobs. She walked right round the garden in a circle that brought her back to the house again, and there coming towards her were Mademoiselle Bourienne (who was still at Bogucharovo, and had no desire to move away) and an unknown gentleman. It was the district marshal, who had come to persuade the princess how urgent it was for them to leave immediately. Princess Marya listened without taking it in. She led the way indoors, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then she left the table with an apology, and went to the old prince’s door. The doctor came out looking very agitated and said she could not go in.

‘Go away, Princess! Please go away!’

Princess Marya went down the garden again, and there by the pond she sat down on the grass at the bottom of a slope where nobody could see her. She was unaware of the time passing. She was brought to her senses by the sound of a woman’s footsteps hurrying down the path. She got to her feet and there was Dunyasha, her maid, who had obviously rushed out to find her only to be stopped in her tracks, shocked by the sudden sight of her mistress.

‘Please, Princess, you must come . . . the prince . . .’ said Dunyasha in a trembling voice.

‘Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming!’ the princess blurted out, giving Dunyasha no time to finish. Looking away from her, she ran back to the house.

‘Princess, this is the will of God! Please prepare yourself for the worst,’ said the marshal, meeting her at the door.

‘Leave me alone. It’s not true!’ she shouted angrily.