War And Peace

Pierre was looking excited and Natasha could tell that his visit had been full of interest; he obviously had a lot to say about it, but not while the countess was still there. Not being family, Denisov couldn’t understand Pierre’s reluctance, and, dissatisfied as he was with the way things were going, he was very keen to hear the latest word from Petersburg. He made several challenging attempts to get Pierre talking about the recent scandal in the Semyonovsky regiment, or Arakcheyev, or the Bible Society.¹³ Once or twice Pierre got carried away and was about to launch forth, only for Nikolay and Natasha to steer him back to the health of Prince Ivan and Countess Marya Antonovna.

‘So what’s this widiculous nonsense about Gossner and Madame Tatawinova?’¹⁴ Denisov asked. ‘Is it still going on?’

‘Going on?’ said Pierre. ‘It’s worse than ever. And the Bible Society has taken over the government.’

‘What was that, my dear friend?’ inquired the old countess. Having drunk her tea, she was clearly on the look-out for a pretext to vent a little ill-humour after indulging in refreshments. ‘What were you saying about the government? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘It’s like this, Mamma,’ put in Nikolay, skilled as he was in translating into his mother’s language. ‘Prince Alexander Golitsyn has started a society. They do say he’s a big man nowadays.’

‘Arakcheyev and Golitsyn,’ said Pierre rather rashly. ‘They are the government now. And what a government! They see a conspiracy round every corner, and they’re scared of their own shadows.’

‘Now what can Prince Golitsyn possibly have done wrong? He is a pillar of society. I used to meet him in the old days at Marya Antonovna’s,’ said the countess, greatly aggrieved. And still more aggrieved by the ensuing silence, she went on. ‘People are always finding fault nowadays. A Gospel Society? There’s no harm in that!’ She got to her feet (as did all the company), and grimly sailed forth to find her table in the next room.

The lugubrious silence that ensued was interrupted by the sound of children’s voices and laughter coming from the next room. There was evidently some boisterous excitement afoot among the children.

‘It’s finished! It’s finished!’ Little Natasha’s gleeful shriek could be heard above all the rest. Pierre’s eyes were on his Natasha, but he exchanged quick glances with Countess Marya and Nikolay, and gave a happy smile.

‘Music to my ears!’ he said.

‘Anna Makarovna has finished her stocking,’ said Countess Marya.

‘Oh, I’m going in to have a look,’ said Pierre, jumping to his feet. ‘You know something,’ he said, stopping at the door. ‘I really love that kind of music. I wonder why? It’s the first thing that tells me everything’s all right. On the way back today, the nearer I got to the house, the more worried I was. Then I heard Andryusha roaring with laughter in the hall, and I knew everything was all right . . .’

‘Yes, I know that feeling,’ Nikolay chimed in. ‘I can’t go in with you. The stockings are a present for me.’

Pierre went in to the children, and the shrieks and laughter were louder than ever. ‘Now then, Anna Makarovna,’ cried Pierre’s voice. ‘We want you here in the middle of the room. Wait for the command – one, two . . . and then I’ll say three! You stand here. I’ll have you in my arms. Ready? One . . . two . . .’ There was complete silence. ‘Three!’ and a roar of excited children’s voices filled the room.

‘There are two! There are two!’ cried the children.

And there were indeed two stockings, because, by a secret process known only to herself, Anna Makarovna could knit two on one pair of needles, and she always made a great show of bringing the children round and producing one stocking from inside the other when the pair was done.

CHAPTER 14

Soon after this the children came in to say goodnight. They did the rounds, kissing everybody; the tutors and governesses made their bows and went out. Dessalles and his pupil were the only ones left. The tutor whispered to the boy, asking him to come downstairs.

‘No, Monsieur Dessalles, I’m going to ask my aunt if I can stay,’ young Nikolay Bolkonsky answered, also in a whisper.

‘Auntie, please may I stay?’ said Nikolay, going over to Countess Marya. His face was a picture of entreaty, excitement and enthusiasm. She looked at him and turned to Pierre.

‘While ever you are here he can’t tear himself away . . .’ she said.

‘I’ll bring him down soon, Monsieur Dessalles. Goodnight,’ said Pierre, offering his hand to the Swiss tutor, and turning with a smile to Nikolay. ‘We haven’t seen much of each other. Marie, he’s getting more and more like him, isn’t he?’ he added, turning to Countess Marya.

‘Like my father?’ said the boy, blushing to the roots of his hair and gazing up at Pierre with blissful, glittering eyes.