War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [726]
“Do you drink vodka, Count?” asked Princess Marya, and these words suddenly dispersed the shadows of the past.
“Tell us about yourself,” said Princess Marya. “They tell such incredible wonders about you.”
“Yes,” Pierre replied with his now habitual smile of mild mockery. “They even tell me such wonders as I’ve never seen even in dreams. Marya Abramovna invited me to her house and told me everything that has happened to me or should have happened. Stepan Stepanych also taught me how to tell my story. Generally, I’ve noticed that being an interesting person is very convenient (I’m an interesting person now); people invite me and tell me about myself.”
Natasha smiled and was about to say something.
“We’ve been told,” Princess Marya interrupted her, “that you lost two million in Moscow. Is it true?”
“And I’ve become three times richer,” said Pierre. Despite the fact that his wife’s debts and the necessity of building had changed his affairs, he went on telling people that he had become three times richer.
“What I’ve unquestionably gained is freedom…” he began seriously; but he decided not to go on, noticing that it was too egotistical a subject for conversation.
“And are you building?”
“Yes, Savelyich orders me to.”
“Tell us, did you not yet know of the countess’s death when you stayed in Moscow?” Princess Marya asked and blushed at once, noticing that by asking this question right after his words about being free, she was ascribing a meaning to his words that they might not have had.
“No,” answered Pierre, obviously not finding anything awkward in the interpretation Princess Marya had given to his mention of his freedom. “I learned of it in Orel, and you can’t imagine how it struck me. We were not exemplary spouses,” he said quickly, glancing at Natasha and noticing curiosity on her face about how he would speak of his wife. “But this death struck me terribly. When two persons quarrel, both are always guilty. And one’s guilt suddenly becomes terribly heavy before a person who is no longer there. And then, such a death…without friends, without consolation. I’m very, very sorry for her,” he finished, and was pleased to notice joyful approval on Natasha’s face.
“Yes, and now you’re a bachelor and eligible again,” said Princess Marya.
Pierre suddenly blushed deeply and tried for a long time not to look at Natasha. When he ventured to glance at her, her face was cold, stern, and even contemptuous, as it seemed to him.
“But did you really see and speak with Napoleon, as we’ve been told?” asked Princess Marya.
Pierre laughed.
“Not once, never. It always seems to everybody that being in captivity means being Napoleon’s guest. I not only didn’t see him, but I didn’t even hear about him. I was in much inferior company.”
The supper was coming to an end, and Pierre, who at first refused to tell about his captivity, was gradually drawn into the story.
“But it’s true that you stayed in order to kill Napoleon?” Natasha asked him, with a faint smile. “I guessed it then, when we met you by the Sukhareva tower—remember?”
Pierre acknowledged that it was true, and starting with that question, guided gradually by the questions of Princess Marya and especially Natasha, was drawn into a detailed account of his adventures.
At first he spoke with that mocking, meek attitude he now had towards people and especially towards himself, but then, when he came to the story of the horrors and suffering he had seen, he involuntarily got carried away without noticing it and started speaking with the restrained emotion of a man who is reliving strong impressions in recollection.
Princess Marya with a meek smile looked now at Pierre, now at Natasha. In this whole story she saw only Pierre and his kindness. Natasha, leaning on her arm, the expression of her face constantly changing with the story, followed Pierre without tearing herself away for a moment, clearly reliving what he was telling along with him. Not only her gaze, but her exclamations,