War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [742]
After her visit to the Rostovs and the unexpected, cold reception she was given by Nikolai, Princess Marya confessed to herself that she had been right in not wishing to go first to the Rostovs.
“I expected nothing else,” she said to herself, calling on her pride for help. “I don’t care about him at all, I merely wanted to see the old lady, who was always kind to me and to whom I owe a great deal.”
But she could not pacify herself with these arguments: a feeling akin to repentance tormented her when she remembered her visit. Though she had firmly resolved not to call on the Rostovs anymore and to forget it all, she constantly felt herself in an uncertain position. And when she asked herself what it was that tormented her, she had to confess that it was her relations with Rostov. His cold, courteous tone did not come from his feeling for her (she knew that), but was covering up something. That something she had to explain, and until then she felt she could not be at peace.
In the middle of winter, she was sitting in the schoolroom, following her nephew’s lessons, when Rostov’s arrival was announced. Firmly resolved not to give away her secret and not to show her confusion, she called Mlle Bourienne and together with her came out to the drawing room.
With the first glance at Nikolai’s face, she saw that he had come only to fulfill his duty to courtesy, and she resolved to keep firmly to the same tone in which he addressed her.
They talked about the countess’s health, about mutual acquaintances, about the latest news of the war, and when the ten minutes demanded by decency had passed, after which a guest may rise, Nikolai stood up to say good-bye.
The princess, with the help of Mlle Bourienne, had sustained the conversation very well; but at the very last moment, just as he stood up, she felt so tired of talking about things of no concern to her, and the thought that she alone was given so few joys in life occupied her so much, that in a fit of absentmindednes, her luminous eyes staring straight ahead, she sat motionless, not noticing that he had stood up.
Nikolai looked at her and, wishing to make it seem that he did not notice her absentmindedness, said a few words to Mlle Bourienne, and again glanced at the princess. She was sitting just as motionless, and her tender face expressed suffering. He suddenly felt sorry for her, and vaguely imagined that he might be the cause of the sorrow expressed on her face. He would have liked to help her, to say something nice to her, but he could not think of what to say.
“Good-bye, Princess,” he said. She came to her senses, blushed, and sighed deeply.
“Ah, forgive me,” she said, as if waking up. “You’re leaving already, Count? Well, good-bye! What about the pillow for the countess?”
“Wait, I’ll bring it at once,” said Mlle Bourienne, and she left the room.
They were both silent, glancing at each other from time to time.
“Yes, Princess,” Nikolai finally said, smiling sadly, “it doesn’t seem long ago, but so much water has flowed by since you and I met for the first time in Bogucharovo. How unfortunate we all seemed—yet I’d pay dearly to bring that time back…but there’s no bringing it back.”
The princess was looking intently into his eyes with her luminous gaze while he said that. It was as if she were trying to grasp the hidden meaning of his words, which would explain to her his feeling for her.
“Yes, yes,” she said, “but you shouldn’t regret the past, Count. As I understand your life now, you’ll always remember it with pleasure, because the self-sacrifice by which you live now…”
“I do not accept your praises,” he hastily interrupted her. “On the contrary, I constantly reproach myself; but that is a quite uninteresting and cheerless subject.”
And again his eyes acquired their former dry and cold expression. But the princess had already seen in him the same man she had known and loved, and she now spoke only with that man.
“I thought you would allow me to say that to you,” she said. “I had become so close to you…and to your