Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter II

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Besides a feeling of aloofness from everybody Natasha was feelinga special estrangement from the members of her own family. All ofthem- her father, mother, and Sonya- were so near to her, so familiar,so commonplace, that all their words and feelings seemed an insultto the world in which she had been living of late, and she felt notmerely indifferent to them but regarded them with hostility. She heardDunyasha's words about Peter Ilynich and a misfortune, but did notgrasp them.

　　"What misfortune? What misfortune can happen to them? They just livetheir own old, quiet, and commonplace life," thought Natasha.

　　As she entered the ballroom her father was hurriedly coming out ofher mother's room. His face was puckered up and wet with tears. He hadevidently run out of that room to give vent to the sobs that werechoking him. When he saw Natasha he waved his arms despairingly andburst into convulsively painful sobs that distorted his soft roundface.

　　"Pe... Petya... Go, go, she... is calling..." and weeping like achild and quickly shuffling on his feeble legs to a chair, he almostfell into it, covering his face with his hands.

　　Suddenly an electric shock seemed to run through Natasha's wholebeing. Terrible anguish struck her heart, she felt a dreadful acheas if something was being torn inside her and she were dying. Butthe pain was immediately followed by a feeling of release from theoppressive constraint that had prevented her taking part in life.The sight of her father, the terribly wild cries of her mother thatshe heard through the door, made her immediately forget herself andher own grief.

　　She ran to her father, but he feebly waved his arm, pointing toher mother's door. Princess Mary, pale and with quivering chin, cameout from that room and taking Natasha by the arm said something toher. Natasha neither saw nor heard her. She went in with rapidsteps, pausing at the door for an instant as if struggling withherself, and then ran to her mother.

　　The countess was lying in an armchair in a strange and awkwardposition, stretching out and beating her head against the wall.Sonya and the maids were holding her arms.

　　"Natasha! Natasha!..." cried the countess. "It's not true... it'snot true... He's lying... Natasha!" she shrieked, pushing those aroundher away. "Go away, all of you; it's not true! Killed!... ha, ha,ha!... It's not true!"

　　Natasha put one knee on the armchair, stooped over her mother,embraced her, and with unexpected strength raised her, turned her facetoward herself, and clung to her.

　　"Mummy!... darling!... I am here, my dearest Mummy," she kept onwhispering, not pausing an instant.

　　She did not let go of her mother but struggled tenderly with her,demanded a pillow and hot water, and unfastened and tore open hermother's dress.

　　"My dearest darling... Mummy, my precious!..." she whisperedincessantly, kissing her head, her hands, her face, and feeling herown irrepressible and streaming tears tickling her nose and cheeks.

　　The countess pressed her daughter's hand, closed her eyes, andbecame quiet for a moment. Suddenly she sat up with unaccustomedswiftness, glanced vacantly around her, and seeing Natasha began topress her daughter's head with all her strength. Then she turnedtoward her daughter's face which was wincing with pain and gazedlong at it.

　　"Natasha, you love me?" she said in a soft trustful whisper."Natasha, you would not deceive me? You'll tell me the whole truth?"

　　Natasha looked at her with eyes full of tears and in her lookthere was nothing but love and an entreaty for forgiveness.

　　"My darling Mummy!" she repeated, straining all the power of herlove to find some way of taking on herself the excess of grief thatcrushed her mother.

　　And again in a futile struggle with reality her mother, refusingto believe that she could live when her beloved boy was killed inthe bloom of life, escaped from reality into a world of delirium.

　　Natasha did not remember how that day passed nor that night, nor thenext day and night. She did not sleep and did not leave her mother.Her persevering and patient love seemed completely to surround thecountess every moment, not explaining or consoling, but recallingher to life.

　　During the third night the countess kept very quiet for a fewminutes, and Natasha rested her head on the arm of her chair andclosed her eyes, but opened them again on hearing the bedsteadcreak. The countess was sitting up in bed and speaking softly.

　　"How glad I am you have come. You are tired. Won't you have sometea?" Natasha went up to her. "You have improved in looks and grownmore manly," continued the countess, taking her daughter's hand.

　　"Mamma! What are you saying..."

　　"Natasha, he is no more, no more!"

　　And embracing her daughter, the countess began to weep for the firsttime.