War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [436]
Pierre came early, so as to catch them alone.
During that year, Pierre had grown so fat that he would have been monstrous if he had not been so tall, so large of limb, and so strong that he obviously bore his corpulence lightly.
He went up the stairs, puffing and muttering something to himself. His coachman no longer asked if he should wait. He knew that when the count went to the Rostovs’, it was till midnight. The Rostovs’ footmen joyfully rushed to help him off with his cloak and take his stick and hat. From club habit, Pierre left his stick and hat in the front hall.
The first person he saw at the Rostovs’ was Natasha. Even before he saw her, while taking off his cloak in the front hall, he heard her. She was singing her solfeggios in the reception room. He knew that she had not sung since the time of her illness, and therefore he was surprised and glad to hear the sound of her voice. He quietly opened the door and saw Natasha in her violet dress, which she had worn to church, strolling about the room and singing. She had her back to him when he opened the door, but when she turned abruptly and saw his fat, astonished face, she blushed and quickly went over to him.
“I want to try singing again,” she said. “It’s something to do, after all,” she added, as if apologizing.
“Wonderful.”
“How glad I am you’ve come! I’m so happy today!” she said with the old animation, which Pierre had not seen in her for a long time. “You know, Nicolas was awarded the St. George Cross. I’m so proud of him.”
“Of course, it was I who sent the order. Well, I don’t want to hinder you,” he added and was about to go to the drawing room.
Natasha stopped him.
“Count, is it wrong of me to sing?” she said, blushing, but gazing at Pierre questioningly, not turning her eyes away.
“No…Why? On the contrary…But why do you ask me?”
“I don’t know myself,” Natasha replied quickly, “but I wouldn’t want to do anything that you wouldn’t like. I trust you in everything. You don’t know how important you are to me and how much you’ve done for me!…” She spoke quickly and did not notice how Pierre blushed at those words. “I saw in the same order that he, Bolkonsky” (she uttered that name in a quick whisper), “is in Russia and serving again. What do you think,” she said quickly, clearly hurrying to speak because she feared for her strength, “will he forgive me someday? Won’t he always have an angry feeling towards me? What do you think? What do you think?”
“I think…” said Pierre. “There’s nothing for him to forgive…If I were in his place…” By a connection of memory, Pierre was instantly transported in imagination to the time when, in comforting her, he had told her that if he were not himself, but the best man in the world and free, he would go on his knees and ask for her hand, and the same feeling of pity, tenderness, and love came over him, and the same words were on his lips. But she gave him no time to say them.
“Yes, you—you,” she said, pronouncing the word you with delight, “are a different matter. I don’t know a man who is kinder, better, more magnanimous than you, and there can’t be one. If you hadn’t been there then, and now, too, I don’t know what would have happened to me, because…” Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes; she turned away, raised the music to her eyes, and began to sing and pace the reception room again.
Just then Petya came running from the drawing room.
Petya was now a handsome, ruddy fifteen-year-old boy with plump red lips, and resembled Natasha. He was preparing for the university, but lately, with his friend Obolensky, had secretly decided to join the hussars.
Petya had run out to his namesake in order to talk the matter over.
He had asked him to find out whether they would take him into the hussars.
Pierre walked towards the drawing room, not listening to Petya.
Petya pulled him by the arm to attract his attention.
“Well, what about my business, Pyotr Kirilych? For God’s sake! You’re my only hope,” said Petya.
“Ah, yes, your business. About the hussars? I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. Today I’ll tell you everything.