War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [623]
The bustle and horror of the Rostovs’ last days in Moscow stifled in Sonya the gloomy thoughts that oppressed her. She was glad to find salvation from them in practical activity. But when she learned of Prince Andrei’s presence in their house, despite all the sincere pity she felt for him and for Natasha, the joyful and superstitious feeling came over her that God did not want her to be separated from Nicolas. She knew that Natasha loved only Prince Andrei and had never ceased loving him. She knew that now, being brought together in such terrible conditions, they would love each other again, and that then, because of the family relations between them, Nikolai would be unable to marry Princess Marya. Despite all the horror of what had taken place in the last days and during the first days of the journey, this feeling, this consciousness of Providence interfering in her personal affairs, made Sonya happy.
In the Trinity monastery the Rostovs made their first daylong halt in their journey.
In the monastery hostel the Rostovs were given three big rooms, one of which was occupied by Prince Andrei. The wounded man was much better that day. Natasha sat with him. In the next room sat the count and countess, talking respectfully with the superior, who came to see his long-standing acquaintances and donors. Sonya sat with them, and she was tormented by curiosity as to what Prince Andrei and Natasha were talking about. She listened to the sound of their voices through the door. The door to Prince Andrei’s room opened. Natasha came out with an agitated face and, not noticing the monk, who rose to meet her and took hold of the wide sleeve on his right arm, went to Sonya and took her by the hand.
“Natasha, what’s the matter with you? Come here,” said the countess.
Natasha went to receive the blessing, and the superior advised her to turn for help to God and to St. Sergius.
Immediately after the superior left, Natasha took her friend by the hand and went with her to the empty room.
“Sonya, he’s going to live? Yes?” she said. “Sonya, how happy I am, and how unhappy! Sonya, darling—it’s all like before. If only he lives! He can’t…because, because…” And Natasha burst into tears.
“So! I knew it! Thank God,” said Sonya. “He will live!”
Sonya was no less agitated than her friend—both by her fear and grief, and by her own personal thoughts, which she did not tell to anyone. Sobbing, she kissed and comforted Natasha. “If only he lives!” she thought. Having wept, talked, and wiped their tears, the two friends went up to Prince Andrei’s door. Natasha, cautiously opening the door, peeked into the room. Sonya stood next to her by the half-open door.
Prince Andrei lay propped high on three pillows. His pale face was calm, his eyes closed, and they could see that he was breathing evenly.
“Ah, Natasha!” Sonya suddenly almost cried out, seizing her cousin’s arm and stepping back from the door.
“What, what is it?” asked Natasha.
“It’s that, it’s that…” Sonya said with a pale face and trembling lips.
Natasha quietly closed the door and stepped to the window with Sonya, still not understanding what was being said to her.
“Do you remember,” Sonya said with a frightened and solemn face, “do you remember when I looked into the mirror for you…In Otradnoe, at Christmas…Do you remember what I saw?…”
“Yes, yes!” said Natasha, opening her eyes wide, vaguely recalling that Sonya had said something then about seeing Prince Andrei lying down.
“Do you remember?” Sonya went on. “I saw it then and told everybody, you and Dunyasha. I saw him lying on a bed,” she said, making a gesture with her raised finger at each detail, “and his eyes were closed, and he was covered precisely with a pink quilt, and his hands were folded,” Sonya said, becoming convinced, as she described the details she had just seen, that she had seen those same details then. Then she had seen nothing, but had told that she saw whatever came into her head; but what she had invented then seemed to her as real