War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [641]
Once more it pushes from the other side. His last supernatural efforts are in vain, and the two halves open noiselessly. It comes in, and it is death. And Prince Andrei died.
But in the same instant that he died, Prince Andrei remembered that he was asleep, and in the same instant that he died, he made an effort with himself and woke up.
“Yes, that was death. I died—I woke up. Yes, death is an awakening.” Clarity suddenly came to his soul, and the curtain that until then had concealed the unknown was raised before his inner gaze. He felt the release of a force that previously had been as if bound in him and that strange lightness which from then on did not leave him.
When, having come to in a cold sweat, he stirred on his sofa, Natasha went over to him and asked what was the matter. He did not answer, and, not understanding her, gave her a strange look.
That was what had happened to him two days before Princess Marya’s arrival. Since that day, the doctor said, the wasting fever had taken a turn for the worse, but Natasha was not interested in what the doctor said: she saw those dreadful moral signs, which were more unquestionable for her.
Since that day, there began for Prince Andrei, along with his awakening from sleep, an awakening from life. And it seemed no slower to him, in relation to the length of life, than an awakening from sleep in relation to the length of a dream.
There was nothing frightening and abrupt in this relatively slow awakening.
His last days and hours passed ordinarily and simply. Both Princess Marya and Natasha, who never left his side, felt it. They did not weep, did not shudder, and during the last time they themselves felt that they were no longer taking care of him (he was no longer there, he had left them), but of the nearest reminder of him—his body. The feelings of both were so strong that they were not affected by the external, dreadful side of death, and they found no need to exacerbate their grief. They did not weep either with him or without him, but also never spoke of him between themselves. They felt that they could not express what they understood in words.
They both saw how he sank deeper and deeper, slowly and peacefully, somewhere away from them, and they both knew that it had to be so and that it was good.
He confessed, took communion; everyone came to him for a last farewell. When his son was brought to him, he touched him with his lips and turned away, not because he felt grief or pity (Princess Marya and Natasha understood that), but only because he supposed that this was all that was expected of him; but when he was told to bless him, he did as they requested, and looked around as if asking if anything else needed to be done.
When the last shudderings of the body being left by the spirit occurred, Princess Marya and Natasha were there.
“Is it over?!” said Princess Marya, after his body had already lain motionless before them for several minutes, growing cold. Natasha went up, looked into the dead eyes, and hastened to close them. She closed them and did not kiss them, but pressed her lips to that which was her nearest reminder of him.
“Where has he gone? Where is he now?…”
When the clothed, washed body lay in the coffin on the table, they all went up to it for a last farewell and they all wept.
Nikolushka wept from a suffering bewilderment that rent his heart. The countess and Sonya wept from pity for poor Natasha