War And Peace

‘Oh, Nicolas, how can you talk like that?’ said Sonya, beside herself with delight. ‘She’s such a nice person, and Mamma is so fond of her.’

Nikolay said nothing in reply, and would have liked to drop the subject of Princess Marya, but from then on the old countess brought her into the conversation several times a day. She praised her to the skies, told her son he must go and see her, wanted to see more of her herself, yet she was always in a funny mood when she spoke about her.

Nikolay tried to hold back when his mother talked about Princess Marya, but his silence annoyed her.

‘She’s a lovely girl. I think very highly of her,’ she would say, ‘and you must go round and see her. At least you’d be outside meeting people. You must be bored stiff spending all your time in here with us.’

‘But I’ve no wish to do that, Mamma.’

‘Hm, you used to like meeting people. Now all you can say is, “I’ve no wish to do that.” I really don’t understand you, my dear. One minute you’re bored stiff, and the next you’re refusing to go out and meet people.’

‘I didn’t say I was bored.’

‘Oh no? I distinctly heard you say you don’t even want to see her. I think very highly of her, and you used to like her yourself. Now all of a sudden you’re behaving oddly and you have your own funny reasons. Nobody tells me anything.’

‘That’s not true, Mamma.’

‘It would be different if I was asking you to do something unpleasant, but as things stand I’m just asking you to go round and see her. It’s the polite thing to do . . . Anyway, I’ve said my say, and I shan’t interfere any more. You can go on keeping secrets from your mother.’

‘All right, I’ll go round, if that’s what you want.’

‘I don’t mind one way or the other. I’m only thinking of you.’

Nikolay gave a sigh, bit his moustache and dealt the cards in an attempt to change the subject.

The next day and the following day, and the day after that, they went through exactly the same conversation again and again.

After her visit to the Rostovs and the unexpectedly frigid reception she had been given by Nikolay, Princess Marya told herself she had been right in not wanting to call on them before they called on her.

‘I got what I expected,’ she said to herself, summoning pride to her aid. ‘He’s no concern of mine. I just wanted to see the old lady. She’s always been so kind to me, and I owe her a great deal.’

But thoughts like these were not enough to put her mind at rest. She was plagued with a feeling of something not far from remorse whenever she thought of her visit. Despite her firm resolve to forget the whole thing and make sure she didn’t call on the Rostovs again, she couldn’t get it out of her mind that her situation was not quite so clear cut. And when she wondered exactly what it was that was plaguing her, she was forced to admit that it was her relationship with Rostov. His frigid and formal attitude had nothing to do with any feelings he might have for her (this much she knew); it was all a cover for something else. This something else had to be brought out into the open, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until it was.

One day in mid-winter she was sitting in the classroom, keeping an eye on her nephew as he did his school-work, when the servant announced that Rostov had called to see her. Grimly determined not to let him guess her secret, and not to show any embarrassment, she summoned Mademoiselle Bourienne, and the two of them went into the drawing-room.

One glance at Nikolay’s face told her this was no more than a courtesy call, and she decided to adopt whatever tone he adopted towards her.

They spoke about the countess’s health, people they had in common, the latest news of the war, and when the statutory ten minutes were up Nikolay rose to say goodbye.

With Mademoiselle Bourienne’s assistance Princess Marya had kept the conversation going quite well, but at the very last moment, just as he got to his feet, she became so weary with talking about things that didn’t matter to her, and so absorbed in wondering why she should be the only one to have so little joy in her life, that in a fit of absent-mindedness she sat there like a stone, staring ahead and ignoring the fact that he was getting up.

Nikolay looked down at her, pretended not to notice her absent-mindedness and said a few words to Mademoiselle Bourienne before glancing at the princess again. She was still sitting there like a stone, with a painful look on her gentle face. Suddenly he felt sorry for her, and he was vaguely aware that he might be the cause of the sadness he could read on her face. He felt an urge to help her, to say something nice, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘Goodbye, Princess,’ he said.

She started, blushed and gave a deep sigh.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, as if she had just woken up. ‘Are you going already, Count. Goodbye, then. Oh, what about that cushion for the countess?’

‘Wait a minute. I’ll go and get it,’ said Mademoiselle Bourienne, and she left the room.