War And Peace

‘It’s one of Nikolay’s failings that he won’t agree to anything unless everybody accepts it. Whereas what you like, as I well know, are fresh fields and pastures new,’ she said, repeating one of Pierre’s old phrases.

‘No, the thing about Nikolay,’ said Pierre, ‘is that for him thoughts and ideas are a diversion, just a way of passing the time. There he is, building up a library and he’s made it a rule not to buy a new book until he’s read the last one he bought – Sismondi, then Rousseau, then Montesquieu . . .’ Pierre added with a smile. ‘Of course you know how much I . . .’ He was beginning to soften his criticism, but Natasha interrupted him, making it clear that he didn’t need to do that.

‘So you say he treats ideas like a diversion . . .’

‘Yes, but with me it’s the other way round. All the time I was in Petersburg it was like seeing people in a dream. When I’ve got an idea in my head everything else seems a frivolous waste of time.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry I missed your meeting with the children,’ said Natasha. ‘Who was most pleased to see you? I bet it was Liza.’

‘Yes, it was,’ said Pierre, and he went on talking about what interested him. ‘Nikolay tells us not to think. But I can’t help thinking. Not to mention the fact (I can say this to you) that in Petersburg I felt the whole thing was falling apart without me. They were all pulling in different directions. I did manage to bring them together, but then my way of thinking is so clear and straightforward. I don’t say we ought to oppose X and Y. We might get things wrong. But I do say this: let those who believe in goodness come together hand in hand, and let us march under the banner of virtue in action. Prince Sergey is a splendid man, and so clever.’

Natasha would never have doubted that Pierre’s idea was a great idea, except for one thing that bothered her. He was her husband. ‘Surely such an important man, a man of such value to society, couldn’t also be my husband? How could it have happened?’ She wanted to share this doubt with him. ‘What man, what men could decide whether he really is so much cleverer than everybody else?’ she wondered, and in her imagination she ran through the people Pierre admired. To judge by all the stories he had told there was no one he admired more than Platon Karatayev.

‘Do you know what’s just crossed my mind?’ she said. ‘Platon Karatayev. How would he have reacted? Would he have approved of what you’re doing?’

Pierre was not at all surprised by this question. He could see his wife’s train of thought.

‘Platon Karatayev?’ he said, and thought for a while, evidently making a genuine attempt to imagine what Karatayev’s verdict would have been on this subject. ‘He wouldn’t have understood it, and yet – maybe he would.’

‘Oh I do love you!’ said Natasha all at once. ‘I love you! I love you so much!’

‘No, he wouldn’t have approved,’ said Pierre, when he had thought about it. ‘But I’ll tell you what he would have approved of – our family life. He looked for decency, happiness and peace in everything he saw, and I’d have been proud to shown him all of us. You talk about what it’s like when we’re apart, but you wouldn’t believe what I feel for you when we’re back together again.’

‘And anyway . . .’ began Natasha.

‘No, listen. I never stop loving you. And I couldn’t love you more than I do – it’s very special. I think I . . .’ His voice tailed off when their eyes met; there was nothing more to be said.

‘You know it’s stupid,’ said Natasha suddenly, ‘all this business about honeymoons, and happiness being right at the beginning. It’s not right. Now is the best time. Oh, if only you wouldn’t go away. Do you remember how we used to quarrel? And it was always my fault. It was, you know. What did we quarrel about? I can’t even remember.’

‘Always the same thing,’ said Pierre smiling, ‘jealou . . .’

‘Don’t say that word. I can’t stand it!’ cried Natasha, with a sudden chilly glint of nastiness in her eyes. ‘Did you see her?’ she added after a pause.

‘No, and if I had, I wouldn’t have recognized her.’

For a while neither of them spoke.

‘Oh, I’ve got something to tell you. When you were talking in the study I was watching you,’ said Natasha in a rather obvious attempt to scatter the dark cloud that was threatening them. ‘And do you know, you’re like two peas in a pod, you and the boy.’ (That was what she called her baby son.) ‘Oh dear, I suppose I ought to go to him . . . My milk . . . It’s a pity I have to go now.’

They were both silent for a few seconds. Then suddenly, at exactly the same moment, they turned to each other and started to speak. Pierre’s tone was complacent and passionate, Natasha began with a gentle, happy smile. They clashed, stopped, and each waited for the other to go on.

‘No, what were you going to say? Go on.’

‘No, you tell me. Mine was only a bit of nonsense,’ said Natasha.