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Volume II, Part Three, Chapter IX

The Rostovs' money affairs had not been set right during the two years they had spent in the country.

Despite the fact that Nikolai Rostov, firmly holding to his intention, continued to serve obscurely in a remote regiment, spending comparatively little money, the course of life at Otradnoe was such, and Mitenka in particular so managed affairs, that the debts grew irrepressibly every year. The only help that obviously presented itself to the old count was the service, and he came to Petersburg to seek a post; to seek a post and at the same time, as he put it, to give the girls a last bit of fun.

Soon after the Rostovs' arrival in Petersburg, Berg made an offer to Vera, and his offer was accepted.

Despite the fact that in Moscow the Rostovs belonged to the highest society without themselves knowing it or thinking about what society they belonged to, in Petersburg their society was mixed and undefined. In Petersburg they were provincials, to whom the very people whom the Rostovs had fed in Moscow — without asking to what society they belonged — would not condescend.

The Rostovs lived in Petersburg as hospitably as in Moscow, and the most varied people gathered at their suppers: neighbors from Otradnoe, old and not wealthy landowners with their daughters, and the maid of honor Peronskaya, Pierre Bezukhov, and the son of a district postmaster who served in Petersburg. Among the men, the people who very soon became intimates in the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris, Pierre — whom the old count, meeting him in the street, had dragged home with him — and Berg, who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and showed the elder countess, Vera, such attentions as a young man shows when he means to make an offer.

It was not for nothing that Berg showed everyone his right hand, wounded at the battle of Austerlitz, and held a completely unnecessary sword in his left. He told everyone of this event so persistently and with such significance that everyone believed in the appropriateness and merit of the deed, and Berg received two decorations for Austerlitz.

In the Finnish war he also managed to distinguish himself. He picked up a fragment of a shell that had killed an adjutant beside the commander-in-chief and presented this fragment to his commander. Just as after Austerlitz, he told everyone about this event so long and so persistently that everyone again believed it had to be done, and for the Finnish war Berg received two decorations. In 1809 he was a captain of the Guards with orders, and held some special and advantageous posts in Petersburg.

Although some freethinkers smiled when told of Berg's merits, one could not but agree that Berg was a punctilious, brave officer, in excellent standing with his superiors, and a moral young man with a brilliant career before him and even a secure position in society. Four years before, meeting a German comrade in the stalls of a Moscow theater, Berg had pointed out Vera Rostova to him and said in German: "Das soll mein Weib werden", and from that moment had resolved to marry her. Now, in Petersburg, having considered the position of the Rostovs and his own, he decided that the time had come, and made his offer.

Berg's offer was received at first with a bewilderment not flattering to him. At first it seemed strange that the son of an obscure Livonian nobleman should make an offer to a Countess Rostova; but the chief trait of Berg's character consisted in such a naive and good-natured egoism that the Rostovs involuntarily thought it must be a good thing, since he himself was so firmly convinced that it was good, and even very good. Besides, the Rostovs' affairs were much disordered, which the suitor could not but know, and the chief thing was that Vera was twenty-four, she had been taken out everywhere, and, despite the fact that she was undoubtedly handsome and sensible, no one until now had ever made her an offer. Consent was given.

— You see, — Berg said to his comrade, whom he called a friend only because he knew that all people have friends. — You see, I have weighed it all up, and I would not marry if I had not thought everything over, and if it were for some reason inconvenient. But now, on the contrary, my papa and mama are now provided for — I arranged that lease in the Baltic region for them — and I can live in Petersburg on my salary, with her fortune and my own neatness. One can live well. I am not marrying for money — I consider that ignoble — but a wife must bring her share and a husband his. I have my service, she has connections and small means. That counts for something in our day, doesn't it? And the chief thing is that she is a splendid, estimable girl, and she loves me...

Berg blushed and smiled.

— And I love her, because her character is sensible — very good. Now her other sister — the same family, but quite different, with an unpleasant character, and not the same intelligence, and that sort of, you know?... Disagreeable... But my fiancée... You must come and see us... — Berg went on; he was about to say "to dinner," but thought better of it and said "to take tea," and, darting it out quickly with his tongue, blew a small, round ring of tobacco smoke that fully embodied his dreams of happiness.

After the first feeling of bewilderment aroused in the parents by Berg's offer, the festivity and joy usual on such occasions established themselves in the family, but the joy was not sincere, but external. In the relatives' feelings about this marriage there was noticeable a certain embarrassment and shamefacedness. It was as though they were now ashamed of having loved Vera little, and of now so readily getting her off their hands. Most embarrassed of all was the old count. He probably would not have been able to name the cause of his embarrassment, and that cause was his money affairs. He absolutely did not know what he had, how much he owed, and what he would be able to give as Vera's dowry. When his daughters were born, each had been assigned 300 souls as a dowry; but one of these villages had already been sold, and the other was mortgaged and so overdue that it would have to be sold, so it was impossible to give the estate. There was no money either.

Berg had been engaged for more than a month, and only a week remained until the wedding, yet the count had still not settled the question of the dowry with himself, nor spoken of it with his wife. The count now wished to set aside the Ryazan estate for Vera, now to sell timber, now to borrow money on a note. A few days before the wedding, Berg came early in the morning into the count's study and, with a pleasant smile, respectfully asked his future father-in-law to tell him what would be given with Countess Vera. The count was so disconcerted at this long-foreseen question that he said, without thinking, the first thing that came into his head.

— I like that you've seen to it, I like it, you'll be satisfied...

And, patting Berg on the shoulder, he got up, wishing to end the conversation. But Berg, smiling pleasantly, explained that if he did not know for certain what would be given with Vera, and did not receive in advance at least part of what was assigned to her, he would be obliged to break it off.

— Because consider, Count, if I now allowed myself to marry without having definite means to support my wife, I should be acting basely...

The conversation ended with the count, wishing to be magnanimous and not to be subjected to further requests, saying that he would give a note for 80 thousand. Berg smiled meekly, kissed the count on the shoulder, and said that he was very grateful, but that he could in no way now set himself up in his new life without receiving 30 thousand in ready money.

— Even 20 thousand, Count, — he added; — and then the note for only 60 thousand.

— Yes, yes, all right, — the count said rapidly, — only excuse me, my dear boy, I'll give 20 thousand, and the note for 80 thousand besides. So there, kiss me.