War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy [754]
“And you talked it all over well with Prince Fyodor?” Natasha was saying.
“Yes, perfectly.”
“See, he holds it up” (his head, Natasha meant). “But how he frightened me!…And did you see the princess? Is it true that she’s in love with that…?”
“Yes, can you imagine…”
Just then Nikolai and Countess Marya came in. Pierre, without putting his son down, bent over, exchanged kisses with them, and answered their questions. But, obviously, despite the many interesting things that had to be discussed, the baby in his little hat, with his wobbly head, absorbed all Pierre’s attention.
“How sweet he is!” said Countess Marya, looking at the baby and playing with him. “This is what I don’t understand, Nicolas,” she turned to her husband. “How is it you don’t understand the charm of these charming little miracles?”
“I just don’t, I can’t,” said Nikolai, looking at the baby with a cold gaze. “A piece of meat. Let’s go, Pierre.”
“Yet the main thing is, he’s such an affectionate father,” said Countess Marya, to justify her husband, “but only when they’re a year old or so…”
“No, Pierre’s an excellent nanny,” said Natasha, “he says his hand was just made to fit a baby’s bottom. Look.”
“Well, not only for that,” said Pierre, laughing suddenly, shifting the baby, and handing him to the nanny.
XII
As in every real family, several totally different worlds lived together in the house at Bald Hills, each maintaining its own particularity and yielding to the others, but merging into one harmonious whole. Every event that occurred in the house was equally—joyfully or sadly—important for all these worlds; but each world had its own reasons, independent of the others, for rejoicing or lamenting over whatever the event might be.
Thus, Pierre’s coming was a joyful, important event, and as such it had an effect on everyone.
The servants—the most reliable judges of their masters, because they judge not by conversations and expressions of feelings, but by acts and manner of life—were glad of Pierre’s coming, because with him there they knew the count would stop going to the farmwork every day, would be more cheerful and kind, and also because everybody would get costly presents for the feast day.
The children and governesses were glad of Bezukhov’s coming, because no one else drew them into a common life so well as Pierre. He alone could play on the clavichord that écossaise (his only piece) to which one could dance, as he said, all possible dances, and he had surely brought everyone presents.
Nikolenka, who was now a thin fifteen-year-old boy with curly blond hair and beautiful eyes, sickly and intelligent, was glad because Uncle Pierre, as he called him, was the object of his admiration and passionate love. No one had instilled any special love for Pierre into Nikolenka, and he saw him only rarely. Countess Marya, who had brought him up, employed all her powers to make Nikolenka love her husband as she loved him, and Nikolenka did love his uncle; but he loved him with a barely noticeable shade of contempt. As for Pierre, he adored him. He did not want to be a hussar or a chevalier of St. George like Uncle Nikolai; he wanted to be learned and intelligent and kind, like Pierre. In Pierre’s presence there was always a joyful radiance on his face, and he blushed and became breathless whenever Pierre addressed him. He never missed a single word of what Pierre said, and afterwards, with Dessales or alone with himself, would recall and ponder the meaning of Pierre’s every word. Pierre’s past, his misfortunes before the year twelve (of which he had put together a vague, poetic picture from what he had heard), his adventures in Moscow, his captivity, Platon Karataev (of whom he had heard from Pierre), his love for Natasha (whom the boy also loved with a special love), and, above all, his friendship with his father, whom Nikolenka did not remember—all this made Pierre a hero and a sacred figure for him.
From words he let fall about his father