War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [469]
“I received a letter from him,” she replied.
He looked at her with astonishment and timidity.
“Where is he?”
“He’s in the army, mon père, in Smolensk.”
He fell silent for a long time, closing his eyes; then he nodded his head affirmatively, as if in response to his doubts and to confirm that he now understood and remembered everything, and opened his eyes.
“Yes,” he said distinctly and softly. “Russia’s lost! They’ve lost her!” And again he sobbed and the tears flowed from his eyes. Princess Marya could no longer help herself and also wept, looking at his face.
He closed his eyes again. His sobbing stopped. He gestured towards his eyes. Tikhon understood and wiped his tears.
Then he opened his eyes and said something that no one could understand for a long time and that Tikhon alone finally understood and explained. Princess Marya sought the meaning of his words in the mood in which he had spoken a moment before. First she thought he was speaking of Russia, then of Prince Andrei, then of her, of his grandson, of his death. And that kept her from guessing his words.
“Put on your white dress, I like it,” he had said.
Having understood these words, Princess Marya burst into still louder sobs, and the doctor, taking her by the arm, led her from the room to the terrace, persuading her to calm down and busy herself with the preparations for departure. After Princess Marya left the prince, he again began talking about his son, about the war, the sovereign, twitched his eyebrows angrily, began raising his hoarse voice, and had a second and final stroke.
Princess Marya stopped on the terrace. The day had cleared, it was sunny and hot. She could not understand anything, or think about anything, or feel anything, except her passionate love for her father, a love which, it seemed to her, she had not known till that moment. She ran out to the garden and, sobbing, ran down to the pond along a path lined with young lindens planted by Prince Andrei.
“Yes…I…I…I. I wished for his death. Yes, I wished it would end sooner…I wanted to be at peace…But what will become of me? What do I need peace for, if he won’t be there?” Princess Marya murmured aloud, pacing the garden with quick steps, her arms pressed to her breast, from which sobs burst convulsively. Making a circle around the garden, which led her back to the house, she saw Mlle Bourienne coming towards her (she had stayed on at Bogucharovo and did not want to leave) and an unknown man with her. It was the marshal of the district nobility, who had come in person to the princess in order to present to her all the necessity of a speedy departure. Princess Marya listened and did not understand him; she led him to the house, offered him lunch, and sat down with him. Then, apologizing to the marshal, she went to the old prince’s door. The doctor came out to her with an alarmed face and said she could not come in.
“Go away, Princess, go away, go away!”
Princess Marya went back to the garden and sat down in the grass at the foot of the hill by the pond, where no one could see her. She did not know how long she had stayed there. A woman’s footsteps running down the path brought her to her senses. She stood up and saw that Dunyasha, her maid, who had evidently come running to fetch her, had suddenly stopped, as if frightened at seeing her mistress.
“Please, Princess…the prince…” Dunyasha said in a faltering voice.
“At once, I’m coming, I’m coming,” the princess said hurriedly, not giving Dunyasha time to finish what she had to say, and trying not to see Dunyasha, she ran towards the house.
“Princess, God’s will is being done, you must be prepared for anything,” said the marshal, meeting her at the front door.
“Let me be. It’s not true!” she shouted at him angrily. The doctor wanted to stop her. She pushed him away and ran up to the door. “Why do these people with frightened faces stop me? I don’t need anybody! What are they doing here?” She