War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [597]
“Ah, how terrible!” said the chilled and frightened Sonya, coming in from outside. “I think the whole of Moscow will burn down, it’s such a terrible glow! Natasha, look now, you can see it from here through the window,” she said to her cousin, evidently wishing to distract her with something. But Natasha looked at her as if she did not understand what was being asked of her, and again fixed her gaze on the corner of the stove. Natasha had been in this state of stupor since morning, when Sonya, to the countess’s astonishment and vexation, had found it necessary, no one knew why, to tell Natasha about Prince Andrei’s wound and his presence with them in the train. The countess had rarely been so angry with Sonya. Sonya had wept and asked forgiveness, and now, as if trying to smooth over her guilt, constantly attended to her cousin.
“Look, Natasha, how terribly it’s burning,” said Sonya.
“What’s burning?” asked Natasha. “Ah, yes, Moscow.”
And so as not to hurt Sonya by refusing and also to get rid of her, she moved her head towards the window, looked in such a way that she obviously could not see anything, and again sat in her former position.
“But you didn’t see?”
“No, really, I did,” she said in a voice pleading to be left in peace.
The countess and Sonya both understood that neither Moscow, nor the Moscow fire, nor anything else, of course, could have any meaning for Natasha.
The count went behind the partition again and lay down. The countess went up to Natasha, touched her head with the back of her hand, as she did when her daughter was sick, then touched her forehead with her lips, as if to see whether she had a fever, and kissed her.
“You’re chilled. You’re trembling all over. You should lie down,” she said.
“Lie down? All right, I’ll lie down. I’ll lie down in a minute,” said Natasha.
When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrei had been badly wounded and was traveling with them, only at first had she asked many questions about where? how? was the wound dangerous? and could she see him? But after she was told that she could not see him, that he was badly wounded, but that his life was not in danger, she stopped asking and talking, obviously not believing what she was told, but convinced that no matter how much she talked, she would be told the same thing. All along the way, with her wide eyes, which the countess knew so well and the expression of which she feared so much, Natasha had sat motionless in the corner of the carriage, and was now sitting in the same way on the bench she had sat down on. She was planning something, deciding something, or had now already decided it in her mind—the countess knew that, but what it was she did not know, and that frightened and tormented her.
“Natasha, darling, undress and get into my bed.” (The countess alone had a real bed made up for her: Mme Schoss and the two girls had to sleep on straw on the floor.)
“No, mama, I’ll lie down here on the floor,” Natasha said crossly, went to the window, and opened it. Through the open window, the moaning of the adjutant could be heard more clearly. She thrust her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw her slender shoulders shake and beat against the windowsill. Natasha knew it was not Prince Andrei moaning. She knew that Prince Andrei was lying in the same cottage where they were, in the room on the other side of the front hall; but this terrible, ceaseless moaning made her burst into sobs. The countess exchanged glances with Sonya.
“Lie down, darling, lie down, my dear,” said the countess, touching Natasha’s shoulder lightly with her hand. “Do lie down.”
“Ah, yes…I’ll lie down right now,” said Natasha, hastily undressing and tearing the lacings of her petticoat. Having thrown off her dress and put on her night jacket, she sat on the bed that had been