War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [70]
“They told me you gave orders to harness up,” she said breathlessly (she had obviously come running), “and I wanted so much to talk more with you alone. God knows for how long we’re parting again. You’re not angry that I’ve come? You’ve changed very much, Andryusha,” she added, as if to explain her question.
She smiled as she pronounced the name Andryusha. It must have been strange to her to think that this stern, handsome man was that same Andryusha, a thin, frolicsome boy, her childhood companion.
“And where is Lise?” he asked, only smiling in answer to her question.
“She was so tired that she fell asleep in my room on the sofa. Ah, André! Quel trésor de femme vous avez,”*170 she said, sitting down on the sofa opposite her brother. “She’s a perfect child, such a dear, merry child. I’ve come to love her so.”
Prince Andrei was silent, but the princess noticed the ironic and scornful expression that appeared on his face.
“But one must be indulgent towards little weaknesses—who doesn’t have them, André! Don’t forget that she grew up and was formed in society. And then, her position now isn’t very rosy. One must enter into each person’s position. Tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner.*171 Just think how it is for the poor dear, in her condition, after the life she’s used to, to part with her husband and remain alone in the country? It’s very hard.”
Prince Andrei smiled, looking at his sister, as we smile listening to people whom we think we can see through.
“You live in the country, and you don’t find this life so terrible,” he said.
“I’m another matter. Why talk of me! I do not and cannot wish for any other life, because I don’t know any other life. But think, André, for a young and worldly woman, in the best years of her life, to be buried in the country, alone, because papa’s always busy, and I…you know me…how poor I am en ressources, for a woman accustomed to the best society. Mademoiselle Bourienne alone…”
“I dislike her very much, your Bourienne,” said Prince Andrei.
“Oh, no! She’s a very dear and kind, and, above all, a pitiful girl. She has nobody, nobody. To tell the truth, she’s not only unnecessary to me, she’s even an inconvenience. You know, I’ve always been a wild creature, and now more than ever. I like being alone…Mon père likes her very much. She and Mikhail Ivanovich are the two persons with whom he’s always gentle and kind, because he’s their benefactor. As Sterne52 says: ‘We love people not so much for the good they’ve done us, as for the good we’ve done them.’ Mon père took her as an orphan sur le pavé,†172 and she’s very kind. And mon père likes her way of reading. She reads aloud to him in the evenings. She reads beautifully.”
“Well, but in truth, Marie, I wonder if father’s character isn’t sometimes hard on you?” Prince Andrei asked suddenly.
Princess Marya was first surprised, then frightened by this question.
“On me?…On me?! Hard on me?!” she said.
“He’s always been tough, but now I think he’s becoming difficult,” said Prince Andrei, probably speaking so lightly of their father on purpose, to puzzle or test his sister.
“You’re good in every way, André, but you have a sort of mental pride,” the princess said, following her own train of thought more than the course of the conversation, “and that is a great sin. Is it possible to judge one’s father? And even if it were possible, what other feeling than vénération can a man like mon père evoke? And I am so content and happy with him. I only wish everyone could be as happy as I am.”
Her brother shook his head mistrustfully.
“The one thing that’s hard for me—to tell you the truth, André—is father’s way of thinking