War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [337]
The countess had written directly to Mrs. Karagin in Moscow, suggesting the marriage of her daughter to her son, and had received a favorable answer from her. Mrs. Karagin had replied that she, for her part, gave her consent, and that everything would depend on her daughter’s inclination. Mrs. Karagin invited Nikolai to come to Moscow.
Several times the countess said to her son, with tears in her eyes, that, now that both her daughters were settled, her sole desire was to see him married. She said she would go peacefully to her grave if that happened. Then she said that she had her eye on a wonderful girl and tried to draw out his opinion concerning marriage.
In other conversations she praised Julie and advised Nikolai to go to Moscow for the holidays to amuse himself. Nikolai guessed what his mother’s conversations were driving at, and during one of these conversations he got her to speak quite openly. She told him that all her hope for straightening out their affairs now lay in his marrying Miss Karagin.
“And what, if I loved a girl with no fortune, would you really demand, maman, that I sacrifice my feeling and honor for the sake of money?” he asked his mother, not understanding the cruelty of his question and wishing only to make a show of his nobility.
“No, you haven’t understood me,” said his mother, not knowing how to justify herself. “You haven’t understood me, Nikolenka. I wish for your happiness,” she added, and felt that she was not speaking the truth, that she was confused. She began to cry.
“Don’t cry, mama, only tell me that you want it, and you know I’ll give my whole life, everything, for you to be at peace,” said Nikolai. “I’ll sacrifice everything for you, even my feeling.”
But the countess did not want to put the question that way: she did not want a sacrifice from her son, she would have liked to sacrifice herself for him.
“No, you haven’t understood me, let’s not talk about it,” she said, wiping her tears.
“Yes, maybe I do love a poor girl,” Nikolai said to himself, “and what, should I sacrifice my feeling and honor for money? I’m surprised that mama could say it to me. Because Sonya’s poor,” he thought, “does it mean I can’t love her, can’t respond to her faithful, devoted love? And I’d surely be happier with her than with some doll of a Julie. I can’t command my feelings,” he said to himself. “If I love Sonya, my feeling is stronger and higher than everything for me.”
Nikolai did not go to Moscow, the countess did not renew the conversation about marriage with him, and saw with sadness, and sometimes with anger, the signs of a greater and greater intimacy between her son and the dowerless Sonya. She reproached herself for that, but could not keep from grumbling and picking on Sonya, often interrupting her without reason, grumbling at her, and calling her “my dear miss.” Most of all, the kindly countess was angry with Sonya precisely because this poor, dark-eyed niece was so meek, so kind, so devotedly grateful to her benefactors, and so faithfully, so unfailingly, so selflessly in love with Nikolai, that there was nothing to reproach her for.
Nikolai spent the rest of his leave with his family. A fourth letter came from the fiancé Prince Andrei, from Rome, in which he wrote that he would long ago have been on his way to Russia if it had not been for his wound, which had unexpectedly reopened in the warm climate, making him postpone his departure until the beginning