War And Peace

When he arrived at Princess Marya’s house, Pierre was assailed by sudden doubts: had he really been there the day before, and seen Natasha and talked to her? ‘Maybe I invented the whole thing, and when I go in there’ll be nobody there.’ But he had barely set foot in the room before the sensation of losing all his freedom made his whole being aware of her presence. She was wearing the same black dress that hung in soft folds, and her hair was done in the same way, and yet she looked quite different. If she had been like this when he had come in yesterday he would certainly have recognized her in an instant.

She was exactly like the girl he had once known, newly emerged from childhood, the girl who became engaged to Prince Andrey. There was a sharp, quizzical gleam in her eyes and a friendly, curiously mischievous look on her face.

Pierre took dinner with them, and would have gladly sat there all evening, but Princess Marya was going to evening service, so he left when they did.

Next day Pierre arrived early, dined with them and stayed the whole evening. Although Princess Marya and Natasha made him very welcome, and although the whole interest of Pierre’s life was now focused on that house, as the evening wore on they reached a point where they had said all they had to say, and the conversation was drifting from one trivial topic to another and often broke down altogether. But Pierre stayed on so late that evening that Princess Marya and Natasha started looking at one another, obviously wondering how long it would be before he went home. Pierre could see this, but he couldn’t bring himself to go. He felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, but still he sat on because he could not get up and go.

Princess Marya could see no end to it all, so she was the first to get to her feet, and complaining of a sick headache she started to say goodnight.

‘So you’re off to Petersburg tomorrow?’ she said.

‘Er no, I’m not going,’ said Pierre hastily, with some surprise and something bordering on resentment in his tone. ‘No . . . er . . . Oh, Petersburg? Yes, tomorrow . . . but I’m not saying goodbye. I’ll call in . . . You may have some little commissions for me,’ he added, standing in front of Princess Marya, turning very red and not leaving.

Natasha gave him her hand and retired. By contrast, Princess Marya, instead of going away, flopped down into an armchair, and turned her luminous, profoundly intensive eyes on Pierre in a close stare. The weariness that had been unmistakable only moments before had now gone. She gave a long, deep sigh, as if to prepare herself for a lengthy conversation.

The moment Natasha had gone, all Pierre’s awkwardness and embarrassment instantly vanished, to be replaced by eager excitement.

He quickly moved a chair up close to Princess Marya. ‘Yes, I’ve been wanting to tell you . . .’ he said, replying to her stare as if words had been spoken. ‘Princess, help me, please. What am I going to do? Is there any hope for me? Princess, my dear friend, listen to me. I know all about it. I know I’m not worthy of her. I know this is something we can’t even talk about just now. But I want to be a brother to her. No I don’t . . . I can’t . . .’

He paused and ran his hands over his face and eyes.

‘It’s like this,’ he went on, obviously struggling to make sense. ‘I don’t know how long I’ve been in love with her. But she’s the only one I’ve ever loved, in all my life, and I love her so much I can’t imagine living without her. I can’t bring myself to ask for her hand now; but the thought that there’s just a chance that she could be my wife and I might miss the opportunity . . . opportunity . . . is just awful. I want to know . . . is there any hope for me? Please tell me what to do. Dear Princess,’ he said, touching her arm during a brief pause when there was no answer from her.

‘I’m thinking about what you have just told me,’ answered Princess Marya. ‘This is how I see it. You’re quite right that talking to her about love just now would be . . .’ The princess paused. She was going to say that talking to her about love just now would be impossible, but she stopped herself because during the last three days she had seen such a sudden change come over Natasha that she would clearly be far from offended if Pierre were to declare his love – in fact, this was the one thing she was longing for.

‘To speak to her now . . . wouldn’t do,’ she said nevertheless.

‘But what can I possibly do?’

‘Leave it with me,’ said Princess Marya. ‘I know . . .’

Pierre looked into her eyes.

‘Well . . . well . . .’ he said.

‘I know she loves you . . . I mean she will love you,’ said Princess Marya, correcting herself.

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Pierre leapt to his feet with a terrified look on his face and seized Princess Marya by the hand.

‘What makes you think that? Do you really think there’s some hope for me? Is that what you think?’