War And Peace

‘Come on in, Masha,’ he said to his wife. She went in and sat down beside him.

‘I didn’t see him running up after me,’ she said diffidently. ‘I was just . . .’

Holding his little girl on one arm, Nikolay glanced at his wife, and when he saw the look of guilt on her face he put the other arm round her and kissed her on the hair.

‘Can I kiss your mamma?’ he asked Natasha.

The little girl smiled demurely.

‘Again,’ she said, pointing imperiously to the spot where Nikolay had kissed his wife.

‘I don’t know why you think I’m in a bad mood,’ said Nikolay in response to the question he knew was in his wife’s mind.

‘You’ve no idea how sad and lonely I am when you go like that. I always think . . .’

‘Marie, shush. You’re being silly. Shame on you,’ he said merrily.

‘I think you don’t love me any more, I’m so ugly . . . all the time . . . but especially in this condi . . .’

‘Oh, you’re so funny! We’re not loved because we look good – we look good because we’re loved. It is only the likes of Malvina who are loved for being beautiful. So the question is: do I love my wife? No, it’s not love, it’s . . . I don’t know how to put it. When you’re away, or there’s a bit of trouble between us like today, I feel lost, I can’t do anything. Put it another way – do I love my finger? No, I don’t, but you try cutting it off . . .’

‘Well I’m not like that, but I do understand. So you’re not angry with me?’

‘Oh yes I am – horribly!’ he said with a smile. He got to his feet, smoothed back his hair and began pacing up and down the room.

‘Do you know what I’ve been thinking, Marie?’ he began. Now they had made their peace he had gone straight back to thinking aloud in her presence. He didn’t stop to ask whether she was ready to listen; it made no difference. An idea had occurred to him, so it must have occurred to her, too. And he told her he was going to persuade Pierre to stay on there until next spring.

Countess Marya listened, made a few comments, and then it was her turn to start thinking aloud. Her thoughts were about the children.

‘You can see the woman in her already,’ she said in French, pointing to little Natasha. ‘You tell us off for being illogical. You can see our women’s logic in her. I tell her papa’s having a nap, and she says no, he’s laughing. And she’s right,’ said Countess Marya with a happy smile

‘Yes, yes,’ said Nikolay. He picked his little girl up in his strong arms, lifted her high in the air, sat her on his shoulders, holding on to her little feet, and started walking round the room with her. The same look of mindless happiness lit up the faces of father and daughter.

‘But listen, I don’t think you’re being fair. This one’s your favourite,’ his wife whispered in French.

‘Yes, but what can I do? . . . I try not to show it . . .’

At that moment noises from the hall and ante-room – the sound of the door-pull followed by footsteps – seemed to suggest someone had just arrived.

‘Somebody’s come.’

‘It must be Pierre. I’ll go and see,’ said Countess Marya, and she went out of the room.

While she was gone Nikolay allowed himself one good gallop round the room with his little girl. Panting for breath, he quickly lowered the giggling child down from his shoulders, and hugged her to his chest. All this jigging around made him think of dancing, and as he looked at the child’s happy little round face, he wondered what she would be like when he was an old man taking her out into society, and he remembered his father dancing the Daniel Cooper and the mazurka with his daughter.

‘Yes, it’s him, Nikolay!’ said Countess Marya, returning a few minutes later. ‘Our Natasha’s come to life again. You should have seen how pleased she was. And didn’t he get scolded for staying away too long! Come on, let’s go and see him. Hurry up. Do come on! Time to split you two up,’ she said, smiling as she watched the little girl cuddling up to her father. Nikolay walked out, holding his daughter by the hand.

Countess Marya stayed there in the sitting-room.

‘I would never have believed it, never,’ she murmured to herself, ‘that anyone could be as happy as this.’ Her face glowed with a happy smile, but at the same moment she gave a sigh, and a gentle sadness showed in the depths of her eyes. It was as if there was a different kind of happiness, not like the happiness she was feeling here and now, a form of happiness beyond human experience, and it had come to her in an involuntary memory just at that moment.

CHAPTER 10