War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [274]
Prince Andrei got up and went to open the window. As soon as he opened the shutters, moonlight, as if it had been watching at the window a long time waiting for that, burst into the room. He opened the window. The night was fresh and stilly bright. Just under his window was a row of trimmed trees, black on one side and silvery bright on the other. Under the trees was some juicy, wet, curly growth, with touches of silver on its leaves and stems. Further beyond the black trees was some roof glistening with dew, to the right a big, curly tree with a bright white trunk and branches, and above it a nearly full moon against the light, nearly starless spring sky. Prince Andrei leaned his elbows on the windowsill and fixed his eyes on this sky.
Prince Andrei’s room was on the middle floor; there were also people in the rooms above him, and they were not asleep. He heard feminine talk overhead.
“Just one more time,” said a feminine voice overhead, which Prince Andrei recognized at once.
“But when are you going to sleep?” another voice replied.
“I don’t want to, I can’t sleep, what am I to do? Well, one last time…”
Two feminine voices sang some musical phrase which made up the end of something.
“Ah, how lovely! Well, now let’s sleep, that’s the end.”
“You sleep, I can’t,” the first voice answered, coming close to the window. She evidently leaned all the way out of the window, because he could hear the rustle of her dress and even her breathing. Everything became hushed and stone-still, like the moon and its light and shadows. Prince Andrei was also afraid to stir, lest he betray his involuntary presence.
“Sonya! Sonya!” the first voice was heard again. “How can you sleep! Just look how lovely it is! Ah, how lovely! Wake up, Sonya,” she said almost with tears in her voice. “There’s never, never been such a lovely night.”
Sonya made some grudging reply.
“No, just look, what a moon!…Ah, how lovely! Come here. Darling, dear heart, come here. Well, you see? I’d like to sit on my heels, like this, take myself by the knees—tight, as tight as possible, you’ve got to strain—and fly away! Like this!”
“Enough, you’ll fall.”
Sounds of a struggle were heard, and Sonya’s displeased voice:
“It’s past one o’clock.”
“Oh, you just spoil everything for me. Well, go, go.”
Everything fell silent again, but Prince Andrei knew that she was still sitting up there, he heard an occasional quiet stirring, an occasional sigh.
“Ah, my God! my God! what on earth is it!” she suddenly cried. “If it’s sleep, it’s sleep!” and she slammed the window.
“She doesn’t care at all about my existence!” Prince Andrei thought all the while he was listening to her talk, for some reason expecting and fearing that she would say something about him. “And she again! As if on purpose!” he thought. In his soul there suddenly arose such an unexpected tangle of youthful thoughts and hopes, contradictory to his whole life, that, feeling himself unable to comprehend his own state, he fell asleep at once.
III
The next day, having taken leave of the count alone, without waiting for the ladies to come out, Prince Andrei drove home.
It was already the beginning of June when Prince Andrei, on his way home, drove again into that birch woods, where that gnarled old oak had struck him so strangely and memorably. The ringing of the harness bells was still more muffled in the woods than a month ago; everything was filled out, shady, and dense; and the young firs scattered through the woods did not disrupt the overall beauty and, imitating the general character, showed the tender green of their fluffy young shoots.
The whole day had been hot, there was a thunderstorm gathering somewhere, but only a small cloud had sent a sprinkle over the dust of the road and the juicy leaves. The left side of the woods was dark, in the shade; the right side, wet, glossy, sparkled in the sun, barely swayed by the wind. Everything was in flower; nightingales throbbed