‘They say: sufferings are misfortunes/ said Pierre. ‘But if at once, this ;inute, I was asked, would I remain what I was before I was taken ]isoner, or go through it all again, I should say, for God’s sake let me ither be a prisoner and eat horseflesh again. We imagine that as soon as . are torn out of our habitual path all is over, but it is only the begin- Ug of something new and good. As long as there is life, there is happi- |ss. There is a great deal, a great deal before us. That I say to you/ he :id, turning to Natasha.
ic >54 WAR AND PEACE
‘Yes, yes,’ she said, answering something altogether different, ‘and too would ask for nothing better than to go through it all again.’
Pierre looked intently at her.
‘Yes, and nothing more,’ Natasha declared.
‘Not true, not true,’ cried Pierre. ‘I am not to blame for being alive ai wanting to live; and you the same.’
All at once Natasha let her head drop into her hands, and burst in tears.
‘What is it, Natasha?’ said Princess Marya.
‘Nothing, nothing.’ She smiled through her tears to Pierre. ‘Good-nigl it’s bedtime.’
Pierre got up, and took leave.
Natasha, as she always did, went with Princess Marya into her be room. They talked of what Pierre had told them. Princess Marya did n give her opinion of Pierre. Natasha, too, did not talk of him.
‘Well, good-night, Marie,’ said Natasha. ‘Do you know I am oft afraid that we don’t talk of him’ (she meant Prince Andrey), ‘as thou; we were afraid of desecrating our feelings, and so we forget him.’
Princess Marya sighed heavily, and by this sigh acknowledged t justice of Natasha’s words; but she did not in words agree with her.
‘Is it possible to forget?’ she said.
‘I was so glad to tell all about it to-day; it was hard and painful, ai yet I was glad to . . . very glad,’ said Natasha; T am sure that he real' loved him. That was why I told him . . . it didn’t matter my telling hin she asked suddenly, blushing.
‘Pierre? Oh, no! How good he is,’ said Princess Marya.
‘Do you know, Marie,’ said Natasha, suddenly, with a mischievoi smile, such as Princess Marya had not seen for a long while on her far ‘He has become so clean and smooth and fresh; as though he had jit; come out of a bath; do you understand? Out of a moral bath. Isn’t it sc’
‘Yes,’ said Princess Marya. ‘He has gained a great deal.’
‘And his short jacket, and his cropped hair; exactly as though he hi just come out of a bath . . . papa used sometimes . . .’
‘I can understand how /ze’ (Prince Andrey) ‘cared for no one else ; he did for him,’ said Princess Marya.
‘Yes, and he is so different from him. They say men are better frier; when they are utterly different. That must be true; he is not a bit like hi in anything, is he?’
‘Yes, and he is such a splendid fellow.’
‘Well, good-night,’ answered Natasha. And the same mischievous sm; lingered a long while as though forgotten on her face.
XVIII
For a long while Pierre could not sleep that night. He walked up ai down his room, at one moment frowning, deep in some difficult train f
lought, at the next shrugging his shoulders and shaking himself, and at le next smiling blissfully.
He thought of Prince Andrey, of Natasha, of their love, and at one loment was jealous of her past, and at the next reproached himself, and len forgave himself for the feeling. It was six o’clock in the morning, nd still he paced the room.
‘Well, what is one to do, if there’s no escaping it? What is one to do? t must be the right thing, then,’ he said to himself; and hurriedly un- ressing, he got into bed, happy and agitated, but free from doubt and hesitation.
‘However strange, however impossible such happiness, I must do every- hing that we may be man and wife,’ he said to himself.
Several days previously Pierre had fixed on the following Friday as he date on which he would set off to Petersburg. When he waked up ext day it was Thursday, and Savelitch came to him for orders about acking the things for the journey.
I ‘To Petersburg? What is Petersburg? Who is in Petersburg?’ he un- onsciously asked, though only of himself. ‘Yes, some long while ago, be- ire this happened, I was meaning for some reason to go to Petersburg,’ he ecalled. ‘Why was it? And I shall go, perhaps. How kind he is, and how ttentive, how he remembers everything!’ he thought, looking at Savel- ch’s old face. ‘And what a pleasant smile!’ he thought.
‘Well, and do you stiil not want your freedom, Savelitch?’ asked Pierre. ‘What should I want my freedom for, your excellency? With the late punt—the Kingdom of Heaven to him—we got on very well, and under ou, we have never known any unkindness.’
‘Well, but your children?’
f ‘My children too will do very well, your excellency; under such masers one can get all right.’
‘Well, but my heirs?’ said Pierre. ‘All of a sudden I shall get married . . It might happen, you know,’ he added, with an involuntary smile. ‘And I make bold to say, a good thing too, your excellency.’
