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Volume I, Part Two, Chapter XXI

Prince Vasili was not a man who deliberately thought out his plans. Still less did he think of injuring anyone for his own advantage. He was merely a man of the world who had got on and to whom getting on had become a habit. Schemes and devices for which he never gave himself an exact account, but which formed the whole interest of his life, were constantly shaping themselves in his mind, arising from the circumstances and persons he met. Of these plans he had not merely one or two in his head but dozens, some only beginning to form themselves, some approaching achievement, and some being dropped. He did not, for instance, say to himself: "This man now has influence, I must gain his confidence and friendship and through him obtain a special grant." Nor did he say to himself: "Pierre is a rich man, I must entice him to marry my daughter and lend me the forty thousand rubles I need." But when he came across a man of position his instinct immediately told him that this man could be useful, and without any premeditation Prince Vasili took the first opportunity to gain his confidence, flatter him, become intimate with him, and finally make his request.

He had Pierre at hand in Moscow and procured for him an appointment as Gentleman of the Bedchamber, which at that time conferred the status of Councilor of State, and insisted on the young man accompanying him to Petersburg and staying at his house. With apparent absent-mindedness, yet with unhesitating assurance that he was doing the right thing, Prince Vasili did everything to get Pierre to marry his daughter. Had he thought out his plans beforehand he could not have been so natural and shown such unaffected familiarity in his intercourse with everybody both above and below him in social standing. Something always drew him toward those richer and more powerful than himself and he had rare skill in seizing the most opportune moment for making use of people.

Pierre, on unexpectedly becoming Count Bezukhov and a rich man, felt himself after his recent loneliness and freedom from cares so beset and preoccupied that only in bed was he able to be by himself. He had to sign papers, to present himself at government offices, the purpose of which was not clear to him, to question his chief steward, to visit his estate near Moscow, and to receive many people who formerly did not even wish to know of his existence but would now have been offended and grieved had he chosen not to see them. These different people — businessmen, relations, and acquaintances alike — were all disposed to treat the young heir in the most friendly and flattering manner: they were all evidently firmly convinced of Pierre's noble qualities. He was always hearing such words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With your excellent heart," or, "You are yourself so honorable, Count," or, "Were he as clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really was very kind and very intelligent. Even people who had formerly been spiteful and evidently unfriendly to him now became gentle and affectionate. The angry eldest princess, with the long waist and hair plastered down like a doll's, had come into Pierre's room after the funeral. With drooping eyes and frequent blushes she told him she was very sorry about their past misunderstandings and did not now feel she had a right to ask him for anything, except only for permission, after the blow she had received, to remain for a few weeks longer in the house she so loved and where she had sacrificed so much. She could not restrain herself and wept at these words. Touched that this statuesque princess could so change, Pierre took her hand and begged her forgiveness, without knowing what for. From that day the princess quite changed toward him and began knitting a striped scarf for him.

— Do this for her, mon cher; after all, she had a great deal to put up with from the deceased, — said Prince Vasili to him, handing him a paper to sign for the princess's benefit.

Prince Vasili had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to throw this bone — a bill for thirty thousand rubles — to the poor princess that it might not occur to her to speak of Prince Vasili's part in the affair of the inlaid portfolio. Pierre signed the bill, and after that the princess grew still kinder. The younger sisters also became affectionate to him, especially the youngest, the pretty one with the mole, who often made him feel confused by her smiles and her own confusion when meeting him.

It seemed so natural to Pierre that everyone should like him, and it would have seemed so unnatural had anyone disliked him, that he could not but believe in the sincerity of those around him. Besides, he had no time to ask himself whether these people were sincere or not. He was always busy and always felt in a state of mild and cheerful intoxication. He felt as though he were the center of some important and general movement; that something was constantly expected of him, that if he did not do it he would grieve and disappoint many people, but if he did this and that, all would be well; and he did what was demanded of him, but still that happy result always remained in the future.

More than anyone else, Prince Vasili took possession of Pierre's affairs and of Pierre himself in those early days. From the death of Count Bezukhov he did not let go his hold of Pierre. He had the air of a man oppressed by business, weary and suffering, who yet would not, for pity's sake, leave this helpless youth who, after all, was the son of his old friend and the possessor of such enormous wealth, to the caprice of fate and the designs of rogues. During the few days he spent in Moscow after the death of Count Bezukhov, he would call Pierre, or go to him himself, and tell him what ought to be done in a tone of weariness and assurance, as if he were adding every time:

"You know I am overwhelmed with business and it is only out of pure charity that I trouble myself about you, and you know well enough that what I propose is the only thing possible." [This was said in French in the original: "Vous savez, que je suis accablé d'affaires et que ce n'est que par pure charité, que je m'occupe de vous, et puis vous savez bien, que ce que je vous propose est la seule chose faisable"]

— Well, my dear fellow, tomorrow we are off at last, — said Prince Vasili one day, closing his eyes and fingering Pierre's elbow, speaking as if he were saying something which had long since been agreed upon between them and could not now be altered.

— We start tomorrow and I'm giving you a place in my carriage. I am very glad. All our important business here is now settled, and I ought to have been off long ago. Here is something I have received from the chancellor. I asked him for you, and you have been entered in the diplomatic corps and made a Gentleman of the Bedchamber. The diplomatic career now lies open before you.

Notwithstanding the tone of wearied assurance with which these words were pronounced, Pierre, who had so long been considering what career to choose, wished to make some objection. But Prince Vasili interrupted him in the special, deep, cooing tone, precluding the possibility of interrupting his speech, which he used in extreme cases when special persuasion was needed.

— Mais, mon cher, I did this for my own sake, to satisfy my conscience, and there is nothing to thank me for. No one has ever complained yet of being too much loved; and besides, you are free, you could throw it up tomorrow. But you will see everything for yourself when you get to Petersburg. It is high time for you to get away from these terrible recollections. — Prince Vasili sighed. — Yes, yes, my boy. And my valet can go in your carriage. Ah! I was nearly forgetting, — he added. — You know, mon cher, your father and I had some accounts to settle, so I have received what was due from the Ryazan estate and will keep it; you won't require it. We'll go into the accounts later.

By "what was due from the Ryazan estate" Prince Vasili meant several thousand rubles quitrent received from Pierre's peasants, which the prince had retained for himself.

In Petersburg, as in Moscow, Pierre found the same atmosphere of gentle, affectionate people surrounding him. He could not refuse the post, or rather the title (for he did nothing), that Prince Vasili had procured for him, and acquaintances, calls, and social occupations were so numerous that, even more than in Moscow, he felt a sense of bewilderment, bustle, and continual expectation of some good, always in front of him but never attained.

Of his former bachelor acquaintances, many were no longer in Petersburg. The Guards had gone to the front; Dolokhov had been reduced to the ranks; Anatole was in the army somewhere in the provinces; Prince Andrei was abroad; so Pierre had not the opportunity to spend his nights as he used to do, or to confide his thoughts from time to time in some older friend. His whole time was taken up with dinners and balls and was spent chiefly at Prince Vasili's house in the company of the stout princess, his wife, and his beautiful daughter Hélène.

Anna Pavlovna Scherer, like others, showed Pierre the change of attitude toward him that had taken place in society.

Formerly in Anna Pavlovna's presence, Pierre had continually felt that what he was saying was out of place, tactless, and unsuitable, that remarks which seemed to him clever while they formed in his mind became foolish as soon as he uttered them, while on the contrary Hippolyte's stupidest remarks came out clever and apt. Now everything Pierre said was charmant. Even if Anna Pavlovna did not say so, he could see that she wished to and only refrained out of regard for his modesty.

In the beginning of the winter of 1805-1806 Pierre received one of Anna Pavlovna's usual pink notes with an invitation, to which was added: "You will find the beautiful Hélène here, whom it is never tiresome to see." [This was said in French in the original: "Vous trouverez chez moi la belle Hélène, qu'on ne se lasse jamais voir"]

Reading these words, Pierre felt for the first time that some link which other people recognized had grown up between himself and Hélène, and that thought both alarmed him, as if an obligation were being imposed on him which he could not fulfill, and pleased him as an entertaining supposition.

Anna Pavlovna's At Home was like the former one, only the novelty she offered her guests this time was not Mortemart, but a diplomatist fresh from Berlin with the very latest details of the Emperor Alexander's visit to Potsdam, and of how the two august friends had pledged themselves in an indissoluble alliance to uphold the cause of justice against the enemy of the human race. Pierre was received by Anna Pavlovna with a shade of sadness, evidently relating to the young man's recent loss by the death of Count Bezukhov (everyone constantly considered it a duty to assure Pierre that he was greatly afflicted by the death of the father he had hardly known), and her sadness was exactly similar to the exalted melancholy she showed when speaking of the august Empress Maria Feodorovna. Pierre felt flattered by this.

Anna Pavlovna arranged the different groups in her drawing room with her habitual skill. The large group, in which were Prince Vasili and the generals, had the benefit of the diplomat. Another group was at the tea table. Pierre wished to join the former, but Anna Pavlovna — who was in the excited condition of a commander on a battlefield whose thousands of new and brilliant ideas there is hardly time to put in action — seeing Pierre, touched his sleeve with her finger.

— Attendez, j'ai des vues sur vous pour ce soir. [Wait, I have some views on you for this evening.] — She glanced at Hélène and smiled at her.

— Ma bonne Hélène, il faut, que vous soyez charitable pour ma pauvre tante, qui a une adoration pour vous. Allez lui tenir compagnie pour 10 minutes. [My dear Hélène, you must be charitable to my poor aunt, who adores you. Go and keep her company for 10 minutes.] And that it may not be too dull, here is the dear count who will not refuse to accompany you.

The beauty went to the aunt, but Anna Pavlovna detained Pierre, looking as if she had to give some final necessary instructions.

— Isn't she exquisite? — she said to Pierre, pointing to the stately beauty as she glided away. — Et quelle tenue! [And what bearing!] For so young a girl, such tact, such a masterly perfection of manner! It comes from her heart. Happy the man who wins her! With her the least worldly of men would occupy a most brilliant position in society. Don't you think so? I only wanted to know your opinion, — and Anna Pavlovna let Pierre go.

Pierre, in reply, sincerely agreed with her as to Hélène's perfection of manner. If he ever thought of Hélène, it was just of her beauty and her remarkable skill in appearing silently dignified in society.

The old aunt received the two young people in her corner, but seemed desirous of hiding her adoration for Hélène and inclined rather to show her fear of Anna Pavlovna. She looked at her niece, as if inquiring what she was to do with these people. On leaving them, Anna Pavlovna again touched Pierre's sleeve, saying:

— J'espère, que vous ne direz plus qu'on s'ennuie chez moi, [I hope you won't say another time that it is dull in my house,] — and she glanced at Hélène.

Hélène smiled, with a look implying that she did not admit the possibility of anyone seeing her without being enchanted. The aunt coughed, swallowed, and said in French that she was very glad to see Hélène, then she turned to Pierre with the same words of welcome and the same look. In the middle of a dull and halting conversation, Hélène turned to Pierre with the beautiful bright smile that she gave to everyone. Pierre was so used to that smile, and it had so little meaning for him, that he paid no attention to it. The aunt was speaking at the moment of a collection of snuffboxes that had belonged to Pierre's father, Count Bezukhov, and showed them her own. Princess Hélène asked to see the portrait of the aunt's husband on the box-cover.

— That is probably the work of Vinesse, — said Pierre, naming a celebrated miniaturist, and he leaned over the table to take the snuffbox while trying to hear what was being said at the other table.

He half rose, meaning to go round, but the aunt handed him the snuffbox, passing it across Hélène's back. Hélène stooped forward to make room, and looked back with a smile. She was, as always at evening parties, wearing a dress very low in front and at the back. Her bust, which had always seemed like marble to Pierre, was so close to him that his shortsighted eyes could not but perceive the living charm of her neck and shoulders, so near to his lips that he need only have bent his head a little to have touched them. He was conscious of the warmth of her body, the scent of perfume, and the creaking of her corset as she moved. He did not see her marble beauty forming a complete whole with her dress, but all the charm of her body only covered by her garments. And having once seen this he could not help seeing it, just as we cannot return to an illusion we have once seen through.

"So you have never noticed before how beautiful I am?" Hélène seemed to say. "You had not noticed that I am a woman? Yes, I am a woman who may belong to anyone — to you too," said her glance. And at that moment Pierre felt that Hélène not only could, but must, be his wife, and that it could not be otherwise.

He knew this at that moment as surely as if he had been standing at the altar with her. How and when this would be he did not know, he did not even know if it would be a good thing (he even felt, he knew not why, that it would be a bad thing), but he knew it would happen.

Pierre dropped his eyes, lifted them again, and wished once more to see her as a distant, foreign beauty with whom he had been in contact every day until then; but he could no longer do it. He could not, any more than a man who has been looking at a tuft of steppe grass through the mist and taking it for a tree can again take it for a tree after he has once recognized it to be a tuft of grass. She was terribly close to him. She already had power over him, and between them there was no longer any barrier except the barrier of his own will.

— Well, I will leave you in your little corner. I see you are very comfortable there, — said Anna Pavlovna's voice.

And Pierre, anxiously trying to remember whether he had done anything reprehensible, looked round with a blush. It seemed to him that everyone knew what had happened to him as well as he did himself.

A little later when he went up to the large circle, Anna Pavlovna said to him:

— I hear you are fitting up your Petersburg house.

(This was true. The architect had told him it was necessary, and Pierre, without knowing why, was having his enormous Petersburg house done up.)

— That's a good thing, but don't move from Prince Vasili's. It is good to have such a friend, — she said, smiling at Prince Vasili. — I know something about that. Don't I? And you are still so young. You need advice. Don't be angry with me for exercising an old woman's privilege. — She paused, as women always do, expecting something after they have mentioned their age. — If you marry it will be a different thing. — And she united them both in one glance. Pierre did not look at Hélène nor she at him. But she was just as terribly close to him. He muttered something, and colored.

When he got home he could not sleep for a long time, thinking of what had happened. What had happened? Nothing. He had merely understood that the woman he had known as a child, of whom when her beauty was mentioned he had said absent-mindedly: "Yes, she's good-looking," he had understood that this woman might belong to him.

"But she is stupid. I have myself said she is stupid," he thought. "There is something nasty, something wrong, in the feeling she excites in me. I have been told that her brother Anatole was in love with her and she with him, that there was quite a scandal and that that's why he was sent away. Hippolyte is her brother... Prince Vasili is her father... It's bad," he reflected, but while he was reasoning thus (the reasoning remained incomplete), he caught himself smiling and was conscious that another line of thought had sprung up, and while thinking of her worthlessness he was at the same time dreaming of how she would be his wife, how she would love him and become quite different, and how all he had thought and heard of her might be false. And he again saw her not as the daughter of Prince Vasili, but saw her whole body only veiled by its gray dress. "But no! Why did this thought never occur to me before?" and again he told himself that it was impossible, that there would be something unnatural, and as it seemed to him, dishonorable, in this marriage. He recalled her former words and looks and the words and looks of those who had seen them together. He recalled Anna Pavlovna's words and looks when she spoke to him about his house, recalled thousands of such hints from Prince Vasili and others, and was seized by terror lest he had already, in some way, bound himself to do something that was evidently wrong and that he ought not to do. But at the very time he was expressing this conviction to himself, in another part of his mind her image rose in all its womanly beauty.