War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [377]
“Miss,” a maid said in a whisper, with a mysterious look, coming into the room. “A man told me to give you this.” The maid handed her a letter. “Only, for Christ’s sake, miss…” the maid was still talking, while Natasha, unthinkingly, with a mechanical movement, broke the seal and began reading Anatole’s love letter, from which, not understanding a word of it, she understood only one thing, that this letter was from him, from the man she loved. “Yes, she loves him, otherwise how could what happened have happened? How could a love letter from him be in her hand?”
With trembling hands Natasha held this passionate love letter, composed for Anatole by Dolokhov, and, reading it, she found in it echoes of everything she thought she felt herself.
“Since last evening my fate is sealed: to be loved by you or to die. I have no other way out,” the letter began. Then he wrote that he knew the family would not give her to him, that there were secret reasons for that which he could reveal only to her, but that if she loved him, she had only to say the word “yes” and no human powers would prevent their bliss. Love would overcome all. He would abduct her and carry her off to the ends of the earth.
“Yes, yes, I love him!” thought Natasha, rereading the letter for the twentieth time and seeking some special, deep meaning in each word.
That evening Marya Dmitrievna went to the Arkharovs and suggested that the girls come with her. Natasha stayed home under the pretext of a headache.
XV
Returning late in the evening, Sonya came into Natasha’s room and, to her surprise, found her still dressed, asleep on the sofa. On the table next to her lay the opened letter from Anatole. Sonya picked up the letter and started reading it.
She was reading and glancing at the sleeping Natasha, searching her face for an explanation of what she was reading and unable to find it. The face was gentle, meek, and happy. Clutching her chest to keep from choking, Sonya, pale and termbling with fear and agitation, sat in an armchair and dissolved in tears.
“How is it I didn’t see anything? How could it have gone so far? Can it be she no longer loves Prince Andrei? And how could she have allowed this Kuragin? He’s a deceiver and a villain, that’s clear. What will Nicolas, dear, noble Nicolas, do when he finds out about it? So this is what her excited, determined, and unnatural face meant two days ago, and yesterday, and today,” thought Sonya. “But it can’t be that she loves him! She probably opened the letter not knowing whom it was from. She’s probably offended. She can’t do that!”
Sonya wiped her tears and went over to Natasha, again peering into her face.
“Natasha!” she said, barely audibly.
Natasha woke up and saw Sonya.
“Ah, you’re back?”
And with the resolution and tenderness that occur in moments of awakening, she embraced her friend. But, noticing the embarrassment on Sonya’s face, Natasha’s face expressed embarrassment and suspicion.
“Sonya, you read the letter?” she asked.
“Yes,” Sonya said softly.
Natasha smiled rapturously.
“No, Sonya, I can’t anymore!” said Natasha. “I can’t conceal it from you anymore. You know, we love each other!…Sonya, darling, he writes…Sonya…”
Sonya, as if not believing what she heard, stared all eyes at Natasha.
“And Bolkonsky?” she asked.
“Ah, Sonya, if only you could know how happy I am!” said Natasha. “You don’t know what love is…”
“But, Natasha, can that be all over?”
Natasha looked at Sonya with big, open eyes, as if she did not understand her question.
“What, are you refusing Prince Andrei?” asked Sonya.
“Ah, you don’t understand anything, don’t say stupid things, just listen,” Natasha said with instant vexation.
“No, I can’t believe