War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
formed. It was like a new light in a carved and painted lantern, suddenly bringing out in breathtaking beauty all the detailed work on its panels that until then had looked rough, dark and devoid of all meaning. This was the kind of transformation that had come over Princess Marya's face. For the first time in her life all the pure, inner spirituality that she had worked so hard to achieve was revealed for all to see. All her hard-won spirituality and self-criticism, suffering, striving for goodness, humility, love and capacity for self-sacrifice flowed from her now in the glow of her radiant eyes, her gentle smile and every feature of her tender face.
None of this was lost on Nikolay Rostov; it was as if he had known her all her life. Here before him was a creature totally different from anyone he had ever met before, and better than anyone, someone much better than himself, and this mattered most of all.
The conversation was quite inconsequential. They talked about the war, automatically exaggerating, like everybody else, how sad they were about it, they recalled their last meeting, though this made Nikolay anxious to change the subject, and they spoke of the governor's nice wife, and their two families.
Princess Marya said nothing about her brother; it was her turn to change the subject whenever her aunt mentioned Prince Andrey. Clearly, she could speak out and put on a show of being worried about Russia's troubles, but her brother was a subject too close to her heart, and she was neither willing nor able to mouth pleasantries about him. Nikolay noticed this, as indeed he noticed, with newly developed powers of observation, every nuance of Princess Marya's character, all of them adding to his certainty that she was someone special and altogether original.
Nikolay had been just like Princess Marya, blushing with embarrassment when he heard her name mentioned or even thought about her, but now he was with her he felt perfectly at ease; completely forgetting all his carefully prepared phrases, he felt able to blurt out the first thing that came into his head, and it was always the right thing to have said.
Nikolay did not stay long. During a pause in the conversation he did what people always do when there are children about: he turned to Prince Andrey's little son. Giving him a cuddle, he asked whether he wanted to grow up to be a soldier. He picked the little boy up and whirled him round joyously, sneaking a glance at Princess Marya. Her gentle, happy, unassuming eyes were watching the child she loved in the arms of the man she loved. Her special look, and its meaning, were apparently not lost on Nikolay; he flushed with pleasure, and delightedly smothered the child with affectionate kisses.
Because she was still in mourning Princess Marya was not going out into society, and it did not seem right for Nikolay to call on them again, but the governor's wife was determined to go on with her matchmaking. She kept on telling Nikolay all the nice things Princess Marya had said about him, and vice versa, and she tried to persuade Rostov to declare himself to Princess Marya. With this in mind, she arranged for the young people to come together at the bishop's house before morning service.
Rostov made it clear to the governor's wife that he was not going to make a declaration of any kind to Princess Marya, but he did promise to be there.
He felt as if he was back at Tilsit. On that occasion Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt whether what everybody else accepted as right really was right, and now, after a brief but genuine struggle between his efforts to think out his life in terms of pure reason and meekly giving in to circumstances, he went for the latter, handing himself over to a power that seemed to be inexorably sweeping him along. He knew that after his promise to Sonya any declaration of his feelings to Princess Marya could only be described as dishonourable. And he knew he would never do anything dishonourable. But he also knew (though it wasn't a question of knowing, more a feeling at the bottom of his heart), that by surrendering to circumstances and to the people who were now guiding him, he was not doing anything wrong, he was just doing something very, very serious, more serious than anything he had ever done before.
After his meeting with Princess Marya, although his outward way of life stayed the same, all his former pleasures had lost their charm, and she was often in his mind. But he never thought of her as he had thought of all the young girls he had ever met in society, nor as he had got used to thinking about Sonya, rapturous though those thoughts had sometimes been. Like virtually every honest young man, he had seen every young girl as a possible future wife, mentally measuring them against all the usual details of married life: the white house-coat, the wife at the samovar, the wife with her own carriage, the patter of tiny feet, his mamma and papa, their attitude to her, and so on and so forth. And he had always enjoyed these images of the future. But when he thought of Princess Marya and being engaged to her, which was what the matchmakers were after, he couldn't form the vaguest outline of his future married life. If he so much as tried, it all seemed so false and incongruous. And it filled him with nothing but dread.
CHAPTER 7
The dreadful news about the battle of Borodino and so many men killed and wounded, and the even more dreadful news about the loss of Moscow reached Voronezh in the middle of September. It was only from the newspapers that Princess Marya learnt of her brother's wound, and since she had no definite details about him she was prepared to go off and find Prince Andrey. (This was what Nikolay heard, though he hadn't seen her himself.)
When he heard about the battle of Borodino and the surrender of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, rage, a desire for revenge or anything like that, he suddenly felt jaded, irritated with everything in Voronezh, ill at ease and also rather guilty. All the conversations he was privy to had a ring of hypocrisy. He didn't know what to make of it all, and he sensed he would have to get back to the regiment before everything became clear again. He speeded up the purchase of the horses, and started being rough with his servant and quartermaster, often for no good reason.
Several days before Rostov's departure a thanksgiving service was held in the cathedral to mark the victory gained by the Russian armies, and Nikolay went along. He stood throughout just behind the governor, in an attitude of prim decorum befitting a military man, letting his mind roam freely over a wide range of topics. At the end of the service the governor's wife beckoned him over.
'Have you seen the princess?' she said, nodding towards a lady in black standing behind the choir.
Nikolay recognized Princess Marya immediately, not so much by the profile he could see under her hat as by the sudden sense of concern, trepidation and sympathy towards her that swept over him. Princess Marya looked deeply preoccupied as she made the last signs of the cross before leaving the church.
Nikolay looked at her face in some surprise. It was the same face he had seen before, with the same general appearance of refined, inner spirituality and suffering, but it was now suffused by a quite different light. It had a pathetic look compounded of sadness, prayer and hope. Behaving exactly as he had done before in her presence, Nikolay walked straight over without waiting to be urged by the governor's wife and without wondering about the rights and wrongs of addressing her while they were still in church. He told her he had heard of her grief and wanted to express his heartfelt sympathy. The moment she heard his voice her face lit up in response, instantly glowing with a mixture of joy and sorrow.
'There's just one thing I wanted to say, Princess,' said Rostov. 'If Prince Andrey was not still alive it would have been in the gazettes. After all, he is a colonel.'
The princess gave him a blank look, but she was clearly comforted by the deep compassion written all over his face.
'And I know from much experience that a shrapnel wound' (the papers had mentioned a shell) 'tends to be either instantly fatal or not too serious,' Nikolay went on. 'We must hope for the best. I'm confident . . .'
Princess Marya interrupted him.
'Oh, it would be so aw . . .' she exclaimed, but she was too emotional to finish what she was saying. Bowing her head with the kind of graceful gesture that typified her every movement in his presence, she thanked him with her eyes and walked out after her aunt.
That evening Nikolay didn't go out; he decided to stay in and finish off some book-keeping work that had to do with the horse-dealers. By the time he had finished it was too late to go out, but still too early to go to bed, so Nikolay spent a long time pacing up and down the room, thinking about his life, something he rarely did.
Princess Marya had made a favourable impression on him when they had first met at Bogucharovo. Their coming together under such unusual circumstances, together with the fact that his mother had actually singled her out as a wealthy heiress who might be a good match for him, had made him look at her very closely. During his stay in Voronezh the favourable impression had turned into a very strong one. Nikolay was deeply affected by the singular moral beauty that he could now see in her. But here he was getting ready to leave, and he hadn't yet considered how painful it would be to go away from Voronezh and give up any chance of seeing her. Yet the experience of meeting Princess Marya that morning in church had, he felt, pierced his heart more deeply than he had anticipated, and more deeply than was good for his peace of mind. The delicacy of that sad, pale face, those radiant eyes, those gentle and graceful movements, but most of all the deep and tender sadness pervading all her features, disturbed him and moved him to compassion. In men Rostov couldn't stand an appearance of spirituality and loftiness (which was why he hadn't liked Prince Andrey), and he dismissed any such thing as otherworldly philosophizing, but in Princess Marya it was that very air of sadness, revealing the full depth of her spiritual world, a new experience for Nikolay, that so irresistibly attracted him.
'She must be a wonderful girl! A positive angel!' he said to himself. 'Oh, if only I was free! Why did I have to rush into things with Sonya?' And he couldn't help but compare the two of them: one was very poor and the other very rich in those spiritual gifts that Nikolay himself lacked and therefore prized so highly. He tried to imagine what might have happened if he had been free. How would he have proposed, and would she have become his wife? No, it was too much for his imagination. He shivered with dread and couldn't picture anything very clearly. With Sonya he had long ago formed an image of the future; everything was clear-cut and straightforward because it was all carefully thought out and he knew everything there was to know about Sonya. But with Princess Marya he couldn't picture any future life, because he had no understanding of her; he just loved her.
His dreams of Sonya had a light-hearted quality about them; they were full of fun. But dreaming about Princess Marya was no easy matter; it was rather frightening.
'I remember her praying!' he thought. 'You could tell she was putting all her soul into her prayers. Yes, that's the kind of faith that moves mountains. I'm sure her prayers will be answered. Why shouldn't I pray for something that I want?' he wondered. 'What do I want? Freedom. Freedom from Sonya. She was right,' he thought, remembering what the governor's wife had said. 'There'll be nothing but misery if I end up marrying her. A mess, heartache for Mamma . . . our finances . . . a mess, a terrible mess! Besides, I don't even love her. Not the way I should. O God! Get me out of this terrible, hopeless situation!' He had suddenly found himself praying. 'Yes, faith will move mountains, but you do have to believe. You can't pray the way Natasha and I did when we were children. We used to pray for the snow to turn into sugar, and then run outside to see whether it had done. Oh no. But I am not praying for silly little things now,' he said, putting his pipe down in a corner and standing in front of the holy icon with his hands held together. His heart melted at the thought of Princess Marya, and he began to pray as he had not prayed for a very long time. He was standing there with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat when Lavrushka walked in with some papers.
'Stupid fool! Bursting in when you're not wanted!' said Nikolay, quickly changing his demeanour.
'A cullier's come from the governor,' said a sleepy Lavrushka. 'Letter for you.'
'Right. Thank you very much. Now get out!'
Nikolay took the two letters, one from his mother, the other from Sonya. He could tell by the handwriting, and he broke the seal on Sonya's letter first. He had hardly read a few lines when his face turned white and his eyes goggled with a mixture of dismay and sheer delight.
'No, it's not possible!' he said out loud. Unable to stay sitting down, he started to pace up and down the room, holding the letter in both hands and reading it. He skimmed the letter once, then read it through a couple more times. With a shrug of his shoulders and his hands in the air, he stood transfixed in the middle of the room, open-mouthed and staring. His prayer, which he felt sure God would answer, had been answered, but Nikolay was just as shocked as if it had been something outrageous and completely out of the blue; the very quickness of the event seemed to prove the letter hadn't come from God as an answer to his prayers, it was pure coincidence.
The apparently undoable knot that had kept him tied down had been cut by Sonya's letter, which was so unexpected and (Nikolay couldn't help thinking) completely uncalled-for. She wrote that in view of their recent misfortunes, including the loss of almost all the Rostovs' Moscow property, and the countess's constantly reiterated longing for Nikolay to marry Princess Bolkonsky, as well as his silence and coldness of late, taking one thing with another she had decided to release him from his promise and set him completely free.
I couldn't bear to think I might be the cause of any anguish or discord within the family which has shown me so much kindness [she wrote], the one aim of my affection being the happiness of those I love, and so, Nicolas, I beg you to consider yourself a free man, and to know that in spite of everything no one could love you more than
Your Sonya
Both letters had been sent from Troitsa. The other was from the countess. It contained a description of their last days in Moscow, the departure, the fire and the loss of all their property. Among other things the countess also mentioned that Prince Andrey had been in the convoy of wounded soldiers travelling with them. He was still in a critical condition, but the doctor now said that there was more hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him.
Next day Nikolay went to see Princess Marya, and took the letter with him. Neither of them uttered a word about the possible implications of the words, 'Natasha is nursing him',1 but this letter had the effect of suddenly bringing Nikolay and the princess into an intimate relationship since they were now virtually members of the same family.
Next day Rostov saw Princess Marya off on her journey to Yaroslavl, and a few days after that he set off himself to rejoin his regiment.
CHAPTER 8
Sonya's letter to Nikolay that had answered his prayer had been written from Troitsa. This is how it came about. The old countess had become more and more obsessed with the idea of Nikolay marrying a wealthy heiress. She knew that Sonya was the biggest obstacle in the way of this. And in recent days, especially after Nikolay's letter describing his meeting with Princess Marya at Bogucharovo, Sonya's life had become more and more difficult in the countess's house. The countess missed no opportunity for turning on Sonya with a cutting or humiliating remark.
But a few days before they set out from Moscow the countess, distressed and overwrought by everything that was going on, sent for Sonya, and instead of bullying and insisting she had begged her with tears in her eyes to repay everything they had ever done for her by making the sacrifice of breaking off her engagement to Nikolay.
'I shan't have a moment's rest until you give me your word,' she said.
Sonya sobbed hysterically and answered through her sobs that she would do anything, she was ready for anything, but she stopped short of giving an actual promise, and in her heart she couldn't bring herself to do what they wanted. She was required to sacrifice herself for the happiness of the family that had nurtured her and brought her up. Making sacrifices for other people was Sonya's way of life. Her position in the household was such that this was the only way for her to demonstrate her good qualities. She was used to making sacrifices and actually enjoyed it. But with every sacrifice she had had to make, until now she had been blissfully aware that it was raising her stock, in her own eyes and other people's, and also making her a worthier match for Nikolay, whom she loved more than anything in life. But now things were different: it would mean giving up everything that made sacrifice itself worth while, and the meaning of her entire life. For the first time in her life she felt bitterness against the people who had done so much for her only to torture her more agonizingly: she envied Natasha, who had never had to go through anything like this, never been asked to make sacrifices of her own, only ever got other people to make sacrifices for her and ended up by being loved by everybody. And for the first time in her life Sonya could sense her pure and gentle love for Nikolay turning into a wild passion that rose above all principles, virtue and religion. And under pressure from this passion, Sonya, with a lifetime of dependence and dissembling behind her, knew instinctively how to fob off the countess with general comments and vague responses, and she also managed to avoid talking to her, but she was now determined to wait for a private meeting with Nikolay, when she would use the occasion not to set him free, but, the very opposite, to bind him to her for ever.
The ghastly upheaval of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow had repressed all the dark thoughts that Sonya now found so burdensome. She was glad to find temporary relief in practicalities. But when she heard of Prince Andrey's presence in their house, in spite of all the genuine sympathy she felt for him and Natasha, she was seized by a wonderful superstitious feeling that God did not want her to be parted from Nikolay. She knew Natasha loved no one but Prince Andrey, and had never stopped loving him. She knew that now they were together, reunited under such terrible circumstances, they would fall in love again, and then Nikolay, being a relative, wouldn't be able to marry Princess Marya. Despite all the horrors of the last days in Moscow and the first days of the journey, this feeling, this aw
None of this was lost on Nikolay Rostov; it was as if he had known her all her life. Here before him was a creature totally different from anyone he had ever met before, and better than anyone, someone much better than himself, and this mattered most of all.
The conversation was quite inconsequential. They talked about the war, automatically exaggerating, like everybody else, how sad they were about it, they recalled their last meeting, though this made Nikolay anxious to change the subject, and they spoke of the governor's nice wife, and their two families.
Princess Marya said nothing about her brother; it was her turn to change the subject whenever her aunt mentioned Prince Andrey. Clearly, she could speak out and put on a show of being worried about Russia's troubles, but her brother was a subject too close to her heart, and she was neither willing nor able to mouth pleasantries about him. Nikolay noticed this, as indeed he noticed, with newly developed powers of observation, every nuance of Princess Marya's character, all of them adding to his certainty that she was someone special and altogether original.
Nikolay had been just like Princess Marya, blushing with embarrassment when he heard her name mentioned or even thought about her, but now he was with her he felt perfectly at ease; completely forgetting all his carefully prepared phrases, he felt able to blurt out the first thing that came into his head, and it was always the right thing to have said.
Nikolay did not stay long. During a pause in the conversation he did what people always do when there are children about: he turned to Prince Andrey's little son. Giving him a cuddle, he asked whether he wanted to grow up to be a soldier. He picked the little boy up and whirled him round joyously, sneaking a glance at Princess Marya. Her gentle, happy, unassuming eyes were watching the child she loved in the arms of the man she loved. Her special look, and its meaning, were apparently not lost on Nikolay; he flushed with pleasure, and delightedly smothered the child with affectionate kisses.
Because she was still in mourning Princess Marya was not going out into society, and it did not seem right for Nikolay to call on them again, but the governor's wife was determined to go on with her matchmaking. She kept on telling Nikolay all the nice things Princess Marya had said about him, and vice versa, and she tried to persuade Rostov to declare himself to Princess Marya. With this in mind, she arranged for the young people to come together at the bishop's house before morning service.
Rostov made it clear to the governor's wife that he was not going to make a declaration of any kind to Princess Marya, but he did promise to be there.
He felt as if he was back at Tilsit. On that occasion Rostov had not allowed himself to doubt whether what everybody else accepted as right really was right, and now, after a brief but genuine struggle between his efforts to think out his life in terms of pure reason and meekly giving in to circumstances, he went for the latter, handing himself over to a power that seemed to be inexorably sweeping him along. He knew that after his promise to Sonya any declaration of his feelings to Princess Marya could only be described as dishonourable. And he knew he would never do anything dishonourable. But he also knew (though it wasn't a question of knowing, more a feeling at the bottom of his heart), that by surrendering to circumstances and to the people who were now guiding him, he was not doing anything wrong, he was just doing something very, very serious, more serious than anything he had ever done before.
After his meeting with Princess Marya, although his outward way of life stayed the same, all his former pleasures had lost their charm, and she was often in his mind. But he never thought of her as he had thought of all the young girls he had ever met in society, nor as he had got used to thinking about Sonya, rapturous though those thoughts had sometimes been. Like virtually every honest young man, he had seen every young girl as a possible future wife, mentally measuring them against all the usual details of married life: the white house-coat, the wife at the samovar, the wife with her own carriage, the patter of tiny feet, his mamma and papa, their attitude to her, and so on and so forth. And he had always enjoyed these images of the future. But when he thought of Princess Marya and being engaged to her, which was what the matchmakers were after, he couldn't form the vaguest outline of his future married life. If he so much as tried, it all seemed so false and incongruous. And it filled him with nothing but dread.
CHAPTER 7
The dreadful news about the battle of Borodino and so many men killed and wounded, and the even more dreadful news about the loss of Moscow reached Voronezh in the middle of September. It was only from the newspapers that Princess Marya learnt of her brother's wound, and since she had no definite details about him she was prepared to go off and find Prince Andrey. (This was what Nikolay heard, though he hadn't seen her himself.)
When he heard about the battle of Borodino and the surrender of Moscow, Rostov was not seized with despair, rage, a desire for revenge or anything like that, he suddenly felt jaded, irritated with everything in Voronezh, ill at ease and also rather guilty. All the conversations he was privy to had a ring of hypocrisy. He didn't know what to make of it all, and he sensed he would have to get back to the regiment before everything became clear again. He speeded up the purchase of the horses, and started being rough with his servant and quartermaster, often for no good reason.
Several days before Rostov's departure a thanksgiving service was held in the cathedral to mark the victory gained by the Russian armies, and Nikolay went along. He stood throughout just behind the governor, in an attitude of prim decorum befitting a military man, letting his mind roam freely over a wide range of topics. At the end of the service the governor's wife beckoned him over.
'Have you seen the princess?' she said, nodding towards a lady in black standing behind the choir.
Nikolay recognized Princess Marya immediately, not so much by the profile he could see under her hat as by the sudden sense of concern, trepidation and sympathy towards her that swept over him. Princess Marya looked deeply preoccupied as she made the last signs of the cross before leaving the church.
Nikolay looked at her face in some surprise. It was the same face he had seen before, with the same general appearance of refined, inner spirituality and suffering, but it was now suffused by a quite different light. It had a pathetic look compounded of sadness, prayer and hope. Behaving exactly as he had done before in her presence, Nikolay walked straight over without waiting to be urged by the governor's wife and without wondering about the rights and wrongs of addressing her while they were still in church. He told her he had heard of her grief and wanted to express his heartfelt sympathy. The moment she heard his voice her face lit up in response, instantly glowing with a mixture of joy and sorrow.
'There's just one thing I wanted to say, Princess,' said Rostov. 'If Prince Andrey was not still alive it would have been in the gazettes. After all, he is a colonel.'
The princess gave him a blank look, but she was clearly comforted by the deep compassion written all over his face.
'And I know from much experience that a shrapnel wound' (the papers had mentioned a shell) 'tends to be either instantly fatal or not too serious,' Nikolay went on. 'We must hope for the best. I'm confident . . .'
Princess Marya interrupted him.
'Oh, it would be so aw . . .' she exclaimed, but she was too emotional to finish what she was saying. Bowing her head with the kind of graceful gesture that typified her every movement in his presence, she thanked him with her eyes and walked out after her aunt.
That evening Nikolay didn't go out; he decided to stay in and finish off some book-keeping work that had to do with the horse-dealers. By the time he had finished it was too late to go out, but still too early to go to bed, so Nikolay spent a long time pacing up and down the room, thinking about his life, something he rarely did.
Princess Marya had made a favourable impression on him when they had first met at Bogucharovo. Their coming together under such unusual circumstances, together with the fact that his mother had actually singled her out as a wealthy heiress who might be a good match for him, had made him look at her very closely. During his stay in Voronezh the favourable impression had turned into a very strong one. Nikolay was deeply affected by the singular moral beauty that he could now see in her. But here he was getting ready to leave, and he hadn't yet considered how painful it would be to go away from Voronezh and give up any chance of seeing her. Yet the experience of meeting Princess Marya that morning in church had, he felt, pierced his heart more deeply than he had anticipated, and more deeply than was good for his peace of mind. The delicacy of that sad, pale face, those radiant eyes, those gentle and graceful movements, but most of all the deep and tender sadness pervading all her features, disturbed him and moved him to compassion. In men Rostov couldn't stand an appearance of spirituality and loftiness (which was why he hadn't liked Prince Andrey), and he dismissed any such thing as otherworldly philosophizing, but in Princess Marya it was that very air of sadness, revealing the full depth of her spiritual world, a new experience for Nikolay, that so irresistibly attracted him.
'She must be a wonderful girl! A positive angel!' he said to himself. 'Oh, if only I was free! Why did I have to rush into things with Sonya?' And he couldn't help but compare the two of them: one was very poor and the other very rich in those spiritual gifts that Nikolay himself lacked and therefore prized so highly. He tried to imagine what might have happened if he had been free. How would he have proposed, and would she have become his wife? No, it was too much for his imagination. He shivered with dread and couldn't picture anything very clearly. With Sonya he had long ago formed an image of the future; everything was clear-cut and straightforward because it was all carefully thought out and he knew everything there was to know about Sonya. But with Princess Marya he couldn't picture any future life, because he had no understanding of her; he just loved her.
His dreams of Sonya had a light-hearted quality about them; they were full of fun. But dreaming about Princess Marya was no easy matter; it was rather frightening.
'I remember her praying!' he thought. 'You could tell she was putting all her soul into her prayers. Yes, that's the kind of faith that moves mountains. I'm sure her prayers will be answered. Why shouldn't I pray for something that I want?' he wondered. 'What do I want? Freedom. Freedom from Sonya. She was right,' he thought, remembering what the governor's wife had said. 'There'll be nothing but misery if I end up marrying her. A mess, heartache for Mamma . . . our finances . . . a mess, a terrible mess! Besides, I don't even love her. Not the way I should. O God! Get me out of this terrible, hopeless situation!' He had suddenly found himself praying. 'Yes, faith will move mountains, but you do have to believe. You can't pray the way Natasha and I did when we were children. We used to pray for the snow to turn into sugar, and then run outside to see whether it had done. Oh no. But I am not praying for silly little things now,' he said, putting his pipe down in a corner and standing in front of the holy icon with his hands held together. His heart melted at the thought of Princess Marya, and he began to pray as he had not prayed for a very long time. He was standing there with tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat when Lavrushka walked in with some papers.
'Stupid fool! Bursting in when you're not wanted!' said Nikolay, quickly changing his demeanour.
'A cullier's come from the governor,' said a sleepy Lavrushka. 'Letter for you.'
'Right. Thank you very much. Now get out!'
Nikolay took the two letters, one from his mother, the other from Sonya. He could tell by the handwriting, and he broke the seal on Sonya's letter first. He had hardly read a few lines when his face turned white and his eyes goggled with a mixture of dismay and sheer delight.
'No, it's not possible!' he said out loud. Unable to stay sitting down, he started to pace up and down the room, holding the letter in both hands and reading it. He skimmed the letter once, then read it through a couple more times. With a shrug of his shoulders and his hands in the air, he stood transfixed in the middle of the room, open-mouthed and staring. His prayer, which he felt sure God would answer, had been answered, but Nikolay was just as shocked as if it had been something outrageous and completely out of the blue; the very quickness of the event seemed to prove the letter hadn't come from God as an answer to his prayers, it was pure coincidence.
The apparently undoable knot that had kept him tied down had been cut by Sonya's letter, which was so unexpected and (Nikolay couldn't help thinking) completely uncalled-for. She wrote that in view of their recent misfortunes, including the loss of almost all the Rostovs' Moscow property, and the countess's constantly reiterated longing for Nikolay to marry Princess Bolkonsky, as well as his silence and coldness of late, taking one thing with another she had decided to release him from his promise and set him completely free.
I couldn't bear to think I might be the cause of any anguish or discord within the family which has shown me so much kindness [she wrote], the one aim of my affection being the happiness of those I love, and so, Nicolas, I beg you to consider yourself a free man, and to know that in spite of everything no one could love you more than
Your Sonya
Both letters had been sent from Troitsa. The other was from the countess. It contained a description of their last days in Moscow, the departure, the fire and the loss of all their property. Among other things the countess also mentioned that Prince Andrey had been in the convoy of wounded soldiers travelling with them. He was still in a critical condition, but the doctor now said that there was more hope. Sonya and Natasha were nursing him.
Next day Nikolay went to see Princess Marya, and took the letter with him. Neither of them uttered a word about the possible implications of the words, 'Natasha is nursing him',1 but this letter had the effect of suddenly bringing Nikolay and the princess into an intimate relationship since they were now virtually members of the same family.
Next day Rostov saw Princess Marya off on her journey to Yaroslavl, and a few days after that he set off himself to rejoin his regiment.
CHAPTER 8
Sonya's letter to Nikolay that had answered his prayer had been written from Troitsa. This is how it came about. The old countess had become more and more obsessed with the idea of Nikolay marrying a wealthy heiress. She knew that Sonya was the biggest obstacle in the way of this. And in recent days, especially after Nikolay's letter describing his meeting with Princess Marya at Bogucharovo, Sonya's life had become more and more difficult in the countess's house. The countess missed no opportunity for turning on Sonya with a cutting or humiliating remark.
But a few days before they set out from Moscow the countess, distressed and overwrought by everything that was going on, sent for Sonya, and instead of bullying and insisting she had begged her with tears in her eyes to repay everything they had ever done for her by making the sacrifice of breaking off her engagement to Nikolay.
'I shan't have a moment's rest until you give me your word,' she said.
Sonya sobbed hysterically and answered through her sobs that she would do anything, she was ready for anything, but she stopped short of giving an actual promise, and in her heart she couldn't bring herself to do what they wanted. She was required to sacrifice herself for the happiness of the family that had nurtured her and brought her up. Making sacrifices for other people was Sonya's way of life. Her position in the household was such that this was the only way for her to demonstrate her good qualities. She was used to making sacrifices and actually enjoyed it. But with every sacrifice she had had to make, until now she had been blissfully aware that it was raising her stock, in her own eyes and other people's, and also making her a worthier match for Nikolay, whom she loved more than anything in life. But now things were different: it would mean giving up everything that made sacrifice itself worth while, and the meaning of her entire life. For the first time in her life she felt bitterness against the people who had done so much for her only to torture her more agonizingly: she envied Natasha, who had never had to go through anything like this, never been asked to make sacrifices of her own, only ever got other people to make sacrifices for her and ended up by being loved by everybody. And for the first time in her life Sonya could sense her pure and gentle love for Nikolay turning into a wild passion that rose above all principles, virtue and religion. And under pressure from this passion, Sonya, with a lifetime of dependence and dissembling behind her, knew instinctively how to fob off the countess with general comments and vague responses, and she also managed to avoid talking to her, but she was now determined to wait for a private meeting with Nikolay, when she would use the occasion not to set him free, but, the very opposite, to bind him to her for ever.
The ghastly upheaval of the Rostovs' last days in Moscow had repressed all the dark thoughts that Sonya now found so burdensome. She was glad to find temporary relief in practicalities. But when she heard of Prince Andrey's presence in their house, in spite of all the genuine sympathy she felt for him and Natasha, she was seized by a wonderful superstitious feeling that God did not want her to be parted from Nikolay. She knew Natasha loved no one but Prince Andrey, and had never stopped loving him. She knew that now they were together, reunited under such terrible circumstances, they would fall in love again, and then Nikolay, being a relative, wouldn't be able to marry Princess Marya. Despite all the horrors of the last days in Moscow and the first days of the journey, this feeling, this aw