I have received a letter from my brother, who announces that he is coming to Bald Hills with his wife. This will be a pleasure of brief duration, since he is leaving us to become part of this unhappy war in which we have become embroiled, God alone knows how and why. It is not only with you, at the centre of business and society, that all the talk is of war. Here too, with the countryman at his labour and nature at peace, which is how city-dwellers usually imagine the countryside, painful rumours of war are heard and felt. My father talks of nothing but marching and counter-marching, of which I have no understanding, and the day before yesterday, while out for my customary walk down the village street, I witnessed a heart-rending scene . . . It was a convoy of recruits who had been enrolled here and were being sent off to the army . . . You should have seen what a state they were in, the mothers, wives and children of the men who were going, and heard the sobbing on both sides! It seemed as if humanity had forgotten the laws of its divine Saviour, who preached love and forgiveness, and were placing the greatest merit in the art of killing one another.
Goodbye for now, my dear, good friend. May our divine Saviour and his most Holy Mother keep you and guard you in their holiness and strength.
MARIE
‘Oh, you are sending a letter, Princess. I’ve already sent mine. I’ve written to my poor mother,’ said a smiling Mademoiselle Bourienne, sharply and brightly in her pleasant, ringing voice with its very throaty
‘Oh, my dear friend,’ answered Princess Marya, ‘I have asked you never to tell me in advance about my father’s moods. I do not allow myself to pass judgement on him and would not wish others do so.’
The princess glanced at her watch, and saw that she was already five minutes late for clavichord practice. She went into the sitting-room with alarm written all over her face. From twelve to two, as laid down by the timetable for each day, the prince took his rest and the princess played the clavichord.
CHAPTER 23
The grey-haired valet was sitting in the ante-room dozing and listening to the prince snoring away in his immense study. From the far end of the house through all the closed doors came the sound of music, the hard passages of a Dussek sonata42 being repeated twenty times over.
Two carriages, one large, one small, drove up to the steps. Prince Andrey got out of one, helped his little wife down and let her go on ahead. Grey old Tikhon in his wig slipped out from the ante-room and whispered that the prince was taking his nap, and closed the door quickly after himself. Tikhon knew that no unusual events, not even the arrival of his son, must infringe the timetable for each day. Prince Andrey clearly knew this as well as Tikhon. He consulted his watch as if wondering whether his father’s habits might have changed while he had been away, and when he was satisfied that they hadn’t he turned to his wife.
‘He’ll be up in twenty minutes. Let’s go and see Princess Marya,’ he said.
The little princess had filled out recently, but her eyes and that short upper lip with its touch of down and its bright smile popped up as sweetly and cheerfully as ever when she spoke.
‘But it’s a palace!’ she exclaimed to her husband, staring around and speaking like someone at a ball who wants to praise the host. ‘Come on, let’s hurry!’ She still stared round, smiling at them all, Tikhon, her husband and the servant helping them in.
‘Is that Marie practising? Let’s go in quietly and surprise her.’ Prince Andrey followed politely behind her, looking depressed.
‘You’ve aged a bit, Tikhon,’ he said as he walked by the old man, who was kissing his hand.
Just as they reached the room where the clavichord was being played a pretty blonde Frenchwoman skipped out through a side door. Mademoiselle Bourienne seemed beside herself with joy.
‘Oh, what a treat for the princess!’ she exclaimed. ‘At last! I must tell her.’
‘No, no, please don’t . . .’ said the little princess, kissing her. ‘You must be Mademoiselle Bourienne. I know about you because you have been such a good friend to my sister-in-law. She’s not expecting us!’
They went to the sitting-room door through which came the sounds of the same passage being repeated over and over again. Prince Andrey stopped with a frown, as if something unpleasant was about to happen.
