War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [547]
The rumor instantly spread through Petersburg, not that Hélène wanted to divorce her husband (if such a rumor had spread, a great many people would have risen up against such an unlawful intention), but simply that the unfortunate, interesting Hélène was in perplexity about which of the two men to marry. The question now consisted not in the degree to which this was possible, but only in which match was the more advantageous and how the court would look at it. There were indeed some obdurate people who were unable to rise to the height of the question and saw in this project a profanation of the sacrament of marriage; but they were few, and they kept quiet, while the majority was interested in the questions of the happiness that had befallen Hélène and which choice was better. As for whether it was good or bad to marry while one’s husband was living, no one spoke of it, because this question had obviously already been decided by people more intelligent than you and I (as they said), and to doubt the correctness of the decision would mean to risk showing one’s stupidity and inability to live in society.
Only Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimov, who came to Petersburg that summer to meet one of her sons, allowed herself to openly express her opinion, which ran counter to that of society. Meeting Hélène at a ball, Marya Dmitrievna stopped her in the middle of the ballroom and, amidst the general silence, said to her in her gruff voice:
“So here you’ve started this marrying while the husband’s still living. Maybe you think you’ve invented some novelty? You’ve been forestalled, dearie. It was invented long ago. They do it in all the——.” And with those words, Marya Dmitrievna, with a habitual threatening gesture, pushing up her wide sleeves and looking around sternly, strode through the room.
Marya Dmitrievna, though feared, was looked upon in Petersburg as a jester, and therefore of the words she had spoken, only the crude word was noticed and repeated among them in a whisper, supposing that that one word contained all the salt of what she had said.
Prince Vassily, who forgot what he said especially often of late and repeated the same thing a hundred times, said each time he happened to see his daughter:
“Hélène, j’ai un mot à vous dire,” he said, taking her aside, and pulling her hand down. “J’ai eu vent de certains projets relatifs à…Vous savez. Eh bien, ma chère enfant, vous savez que mon coeur de père se réjouit de vous savoir…Vous avez tant souffert…Mais, chère enfant…ne consultez que votre coeur. C’est tout ce que je vous dis.”*520 And, concealing ever the same emotion, he pressed his cheek to his daughter’s cheek and walked away.
Bilibin, who had not lost his reputation as a most intelligent man and who was Hélène’s disinterested friend, one of those friends that brilliant women always have, male friends who can never pass into the category of lovers, Bilibin once, in a petit comité,†521 voiced his view of this matter to his friend Hélène.
“Écoutez, Bilibine” (Hélène always called such friends as Bilibin by their last name). And she touched the sleeve of his tailcoat with her white, beringed hand. “Dites-moi comme vous diriez à une soeur, que dois-je faire? Lequel des deux?”‡522
Bilibin gathered the skin over his eyebrows and, with a smile on his lips, fell to thinking.
“Vous ne me prenez pas en unawares, vous savez,” he said. “Comme véritable ami j’ai pensé et repensé à votre affaire. Voyez vous. Si vous épousez le prince” (this was the young man), he unbent one finger, “vous perdez pour toujours la chance d’épouser l’autre et puis vous mécontentez la Cour. (Comme vous savez, il y a une espèce de parenté.) Mais si vous épousez le vieux comte, vous faites le bonheur de ses derniers jours, et puis comme veuve du grand…le prince ne fait plus de mésalliance en vous épousant,”§523 and he released the skin.
“Voilà un veritable ami!” said Hélène,