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Volume I, Part One, Chapter XXIV

Prince Andrei was leaving the next day in the evening. The old prince, not departing from his routine, retired to his room after dinner. The little princess was with her sister-in-law. Prince Andrei, dressed in a traveling coat without epaulettes, was packing with his valet in the rooms assigned to him. Having himself inspected the carriage and the packing of the trunks, he ordered the horses to be put in. Only those things remained in the room which Prince Andrei always took with him: a cash-box, a large silver canteen, two Turkish pistols and a saber, a present from his father, brought from under Ochakov. All these traveling appurtenances were in great order with Prince Andrei: everything was new, clean, in cloth covers, carefully tied with ribbons.

In moments of departure and a change of life, people capable of considering their actions usually find themselves in a serious frame of mind. In these moments, the past is usually verified and plans for the future are made. Prince Andrei's face was very thoughtful and tender. With his hands behind his back, he paced rapidly up and down the room from corner to corner, looking ahead of him, and thoughtfully shaking his head. Whether he was frightened to go to the war, or sad to leave his wife, — perhaps both, only, evidently not wishing to be seen in such a state, on hearing footsteps in the passage, he hastily disengaged his hands, stopped at the table, as if tying the cover of the cash-box, and assumed his usual, calm and impenetrable expression. It was the heavy footsteps of Princess Marya.

— They told me you had ordered the horses to be put in, — she said, panting (she had evidently been running), — and I so wanted to have another talk with you alone. God knows how long we are parting for again. You are not angry that I have come? You have changed very much, Andryusha, — she added, as if in explanation of such a question.

She smiled as she pronounced the word "Andryusha". Evidently, it was strange to her herself to think that this strict, handsome man was the same Andryusha, a thin, mischievous boy, the companion of her childhood.

— And where is Lise? — he asked, answering her question only with a smile.

— She is so tired that she has fallen asleep in my room on the sofa. Ah, André! Quel trésor de femme vous avez, — she said, sitting down on the sofa opposite her brother. — She is a perfect child, such a sweet, merry child. I have grown so fond of her.

Prince Andrei was silent, but the princess noticed an ironical and contemptuous expression that appeared on his face.

— But one must be indulgent to little weaknesses; who hasn't them, André! You must not forget that she was brought up and grew up in society. And then her position now is not rosy. One must enter into everyone's position. Tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner. You just think what it is for her, poor thing, after the life she is used to, to part with her husband and be left alone in the country, and in her condition? It is very hard.

Prince Andrei smiled as he looked at his sister, as we smile when listening to people whom we think we see through.

— You live in the country and don't find this life terrible, — he said.

— I am another matter. Why talk about me! I don't desire any other life, and indeed I can't desire it, because I know no other life. But you think, André, for a young woman of society to bury herself in the country in the best years of her life, alone, because papa is always busy, and I... you know me... how poor I am en ressources, for a woman used to the best society. M-lle Bourienne alone...

— I don't like her at all, your Bourienne, — said Prince Andrei.

— Oh, no! She is very sweet and kind, and above all — a pitiful girl. She has nobody, nobody at all. To tell the truth, not only do I not need her, but she is an embarrassment to me. I, you know, have always been a savage, and now even more so. I like to be alone... Mon père loves her very much. She and Mikhail Ivanych are two people to whom he is always affectionate and kind, because they have both been benefited by him; as Sterne says: "we don't love people so much for the good they have done us, as for the good we have done them." Mon père took her an orphan sur le pavé, and she is very kind. And mon père likes her manner of reading. She reads aloud to him in the evenings. She reads beautifully.

— Well, but tell the truth, Marie, I suppose you find it hard sometimes because of your father's character? — Prince Andrei suddenly asked.

Princess Marya was at first surprised, then frightened by this question.

— Me?... Me?!... Hard for me?! — she said.

— He was always harsh; and now he is becoming hard to bear, I think, — said Prince Andrei, evidently intentionally, in order to puzzle or test his sister, speaking so lightly of his father.

— You are good in everything, André, but you have a certain pride of thought, — said the princess, following her own train of thought more than the course of the conversation, — and that is a great sin. Is it possible to judge a father? And even if it were possible, what other feeling, besides vénération, can such a man as mon père arouse? And I am so content and happy with him. I only wish you were all as happy as I am.

Her brother shook his head doubtfully.

— One thing that is hard for me, — I will tell you the truth, André, — is my father's way of thinking in religious matters. I don't understand how a man with such an immense mind cannot see what is as clear as day, and can err so? That constitutes my one unhappiness. But even here lately I see a shadow of improvement. Lately his mockery has not been so caustic, and there is one monk whom he received and talked with for a long time.

— Well, my friend, I am afraid you and the monk are wasting your powder for nothing, — Prince Andrei said mockingly, but affectionately.

— Ah! mon ami. I only pray to God and hope that He will hear me. André, — she said timidly after a moment's silence, — I have a great request to make of you.

— What is it, my friend?

— No, promise me that you will not refuse. It won't cost you any trouble, and there will be nothing unworthy of you in it. Only you will comfort me. Promise, Andryusha, — she said, putting her hand into her reticule and holding something in it, but not yet showing it, as if what she held constituted the object of the request and as if before receiving a promise that the request would be fulfilled she could not take this something out of the reticule.

She looked timidly at her brother with an imploring look.

— Even if it were to cost me a great deal of trouble... — answered Prince Andrei, as if guessing what the matter was.

— You think what you like! I know you are just like mon père. Think what you like, but do this for me. Please do! Even my father's father, our grandfather, wore it in all his wars... — She still did not take what she was holding out of her reticule. — So you promise me?

— Of course, what is it?

— André, I will bless you with an icon, and you must promise me that you will never take it off... Do you promise?

— If it doesn't weigh eighty pounds and won't drag my neck down... To give you pleasure... — Prince Andrei said, but in the same second, noticing the pained expression that his sister's face assumed at this joke, he repented. — Very glad, truly very glad, my friend, — he added.

— Against your will He will save and have mercy on you and turn you to Himself, because in Him alone is truth and peace, — she said in a voice trembling with emotion, with a solemn gesture holding in both hands before her brother an oval antique icon of the Savior with a black face in a silver setting on a silver chain of fine workmanship.

She crossed herself, kissed the icon and handed it to Andrei.

— Please, André, for my sake...

From her large eyes shone rays of kind and timid light. These eyes lit up her whole sickly, thin face and made it beautiful. Her brother wanted to take the icon, but she stopped him. Andrei understood, crossed himself and kissed the icon. His face at the same time was tender (he was touched) and mocking.

— Merci, mon ami.

She kissed him on the forehead and sat down on the sofa again. They were silent.

— So I was telling you, André, be kind and generous, as you have always been. Don't judge Lise harshly, — she began. — She is so sweet, so kind, and her position is very hard now.

— I don't think I've said anything to you, Masha, to suggest that I reproached my wife for anything or was dissatisfied with her. Why are you saying all this to me?

Princess Marya blushed in patches and fell silent, as if she felt guilty.

— I haven't said anything to you, but you've already been told. And that saddens me.

Red patches stood out even more strongly on Princess Marya's forehead, neck, and cheeks. She wanted to say something and could not articulate it. Her brother guessed: the little princess had cried after dinner, said that she had a presentiment of an unfortunate childbirth, was afraid of it, and complained of her fate, of her father-in-law, and of her husband. After crying, she had fallen asleep. Prince Andrei felt sorry for his sister.

— Know one thing, Masha, I cannot reproach my wife for anything, have not reproached her, and never will reproach her, and I myself cannot reproach myself for anything in relation to her; and this will always be so, in whatever circumstances I may be. But if you want to know the truth... do you want to know if I am happy? No. Is she happy? No. Why is this? I don't know...

Saying this, he got up, went to his sister and, bending down, kissed her on the forehead. His beautiful eyes shone with an intelligent and kind, unaccustomed brilliance, but he was not looking at his sister, but into the darkness of the open door, over her head.

— Let's go to her, I must say goodbye. Or go alone, wake her, and I will come directly. Petrushka! — he called to his valet, — come here, clear away. This under the seat, this on the right side.

Princess Marya got up and went to the door. She stopped.

— André, si vous avez la foi, vous vous seriez adressé à Dieu, pour qu'il vous donne l'amour, que vous ne sentez pas et votre prière aurait été exaucée.

— Yes, if only it were that! — said Prince Andrei. — Go, Masha, I will come directly.

On the way to his sister's room, in the gallery connecting one house to the other, Prince Andrei met m-llе Bourienne, smiling sweetly, who for the third time that day had crossed his path in the secluded passages with an enthusiastic and naive smile.

— Ah! je vous croyais chez vous, — she said, blushing for some reason and lowering her eyes.

Prince Andrei looked at her sternly. An expression of animosity suddenly appeared on Prince Andrei's face. He said nothing to her, but looked at her forehead and hair, without looking into her eyes, so contemptuously that the Frenchwoman blushed and went away without saying anything. When he reached his sister's room, the princess was already awake, and her merry little voice, hurrying one word after another, was heard from the open door. She was speaking as if, after a long abstinence, she wanted to make up for lost time.

— Non, mais figurez-vous, la vieille comtesse Zouboff avec de fausses boucles et la bouche pleine de fausses dents, comme si elle voulait défier les années... Ha, ha, ha, Marie!

Exactly the same phrase about Countess Zubova and the same laugh Prince Andrei had already heard from his wife in the presence of strangers some five times. He entered the room quietly. The princess, plump, rosy, with needlework in her hands, was sitting in an armchair and talking incessantly, going over Petersburg memories and even phrases. Prince Andrei went up, stroked her on the head and asked whether she had rested from the journey. She answered and continued the same conversation.

The carriage with six horses stood at the porch. It was a dark autumn night outside. The coachman could not see the carriage pole. Servants with lanterns were bustling on the porch. The huge house glowed with lights through its large windows. The hall was crowded with house-serfs wishing to say goodbye to the young prince; all the household stood in the hall: Mikhail Ivanovich, m-lle Bourienne, Princess Marya, and the princess. Prince Andrei had been called into his father's study, who wanted to say goodbye to him face to face. Everyone was waiting for them to come out.

When Prince Andrei entered the study, the old prince in old man's spectacles and in his white dressing-gown, in which he received no one but his son, was sitting at the table writing. He looked round.

— Leaving? — And he began to write again.

— I have come to say goodbye.

— Kiss here, — he indicated his cheek, — thank you, thank you!

— What are you thanking me for?

— For not overstaying your leave, for not clinging to a woman's skirt. Service comes first. Thank you, thank you! — And he continued to write, so that ink splashed from his sputtering pen. — If you have anything to say, say it. I can do these two things at once, — he added.

— About my wife... I am ashamed enough as it is to leave her on your hands...

— What nonsense are you talking? Say what you need.

— When it is time for my wife to be confined, send to Moscow for an accoucheur... So that he is here.

The old prince stopped and, as if not understanding, stared with strict eyes at his son.

— I know that no one can help if nature doesn't help, — said Prince Andrei, evidently embarrassed. — I agree that out of a million cases one is unfortunate, but this is her fancy and mine. They've told her stories, she has had a dream, and she is afraid.

— Hm... hm... — the old prince muttered to himself, continuing to finish his writing. — I'll do it.

He dashed off a signature, suddenly turned quickly to his son and laughed.

— A bad business, eh?

— What is bad, father?

— A wife! — the old prince said shortly and significantly.

— I don't understand, — said Prince Andrei.

— Well, nothing to be done, my friend, — said the prince, — they are all like that, you can't get unmarried. Don't be afraid; I won't tell anyone; but you know it yourself.

He seized his hand with his own bony little hand, shook it, looked straight into his son's face with his quick eyes, which seemed to see right through a person, and laughed his cold laugh again.

The son sighed, admitting by this sigh that his father had understood him. The old man, continuing to fold and seal letters, with his habitual rapidity caught up and threw down the sealing-wax, the seal, and the paper.

— What's to be done? She's beautiful! I'll do everything. You can be easy, — he said abruptly while sealing.

Andrei was silent: it was both pleasant and unpleasant to him that his father had understood him. The old man stood up and handed the letter to his son.

— Listen, — he said, — don't worry about your wife: what can be done will be done. Now listen: give the letter to Mikhail Ilarionovich. I am writing that he should use you in good places and not keep you long as an adjutant: a nasty post! Tell him that I remember and love him. And write me how he receives you. If he is good, serve. The son of Nikolai Andreich Bolkonsky will serve no one out of favor. Well, now come here.

He spoke with such rapidity that he did not finish half his words, but his son was used to understanding him. He led his son to the bureau, threw back the lid, pulled out a drawer and took out a manuscript book written in his large, long, and compressed handwriting.

— I must die before you. Know that here are my memoirs, hand them over to the Emperor after my death. Now here is a pawn-ticket and a letter: this is a prize for the one who writes the history of Suvorov's wars. Send it to the Academy. Here are my remarks, after my death read them for yourself, you will find profit in them.

Andrei did not tell his father that he would surely live a long time yet. He understood that this should not be said.

— I will fulfill everything, father, — he said.

— Well, now goodbye! — He let his son kiss his hand and embraced him. — Remember one thing, Prince Andrei: if they kill you, it will hurt me, an old man... — He suddenly fell silent and abruptly continued in a shrill voice: — but if I find out that you have behaved not like the son of Nikolai Bolkonsky, I shall be... ashamed! — he shrieked.

— You need not have told me that, father, — the son said, smiling.

The old man was silent.

— There is another thing I wanted to ask of you, — continued Prince Andrei, — if I am killed and if I have a son, do not let him go from you, as I told you yesterday, let him grow up with you... please.

— Not give him to his wife? — said the old man, and laughed.

They stood silently facing each other. The old man's quick eyes were fixed directly on his son's eyes. Something twitched in the lower part of the old prince's face.

— We've said goodbye... go! — he said suddenly. — Go! — he shouted in an angry and loud voice, opening the door of the study.

— What is it, what? — the two princesses asked, seeing Prince Andrei and for a minute the protruding figure of the old man in the white dressing-gown, without his wig and in his old man's spectacles, shouting in an angry voice.

Prince Andrei sighed and answered nothing.

— Well, — he said, turning to his wife, and this "well" sounded like cold mockery, as if he were saying: "now you do your tricks."

— André, déjà! — said the little princess, turning pale and looking at her husband with fear.

He embraced her. She uttered a cry and fell swooning on his shoulder.

He carefully withdrew the shoulder on which she lay, looked into her face and carefully seated her in the armchair.

— Adieu, Marie, — he said softly to his sister, kissed her hand in hand and walked out of the room with rapid steps.

The princess lay in the armchair, m-llе Bourienne rubbed her temples. Princess Marya, supporting her sister-in-law, with beautiful tear-stained eyes, still looked at the door through which Prince Andrei had gone out, and made the sign of the cross over him. From the study could be heard, like shots, the frequently repeated angry sounds of the old man blowing his nose. Just as Prince Andrei went out, the door of the study opened quickly and the strict figure of the old man in the white dressing-gown looked out.

— Has he gone? Well, a good thing too! — he said, looking angrily at the unconscious little princess, shook his head reproachfully and slammed the door. ————