Book Fifteen: 1812-13 - Chapter III

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Princess Mary postponed her departure. Sonya and the count triedto replace Natasha but could not. They saw that she alone was ableto restrain her mother from unreasoning despair. For three weeksNatasha remained constantly at her mother's side, sleeping on a loungechair in her room, making her eat and drink, and talking to herincessantly because the mere sound of her tender, caressing tonessoothed her mother.

　　The mother's wounded spirit could not could not heal. Petya'sdeath had torn from her half her life. When the news of Petya'sdeath had come she had been a fresh and vigorous woman of fifty, but amonth later she left her room a listless old woman taking nointerest in life. But the same blow that almost killed the countess,this second blow, restored Natasha to life.

　　A spiritual wound produced by a rending of the spiritual body islike a physical wound and, strange as it may seem, just as a deepwound may heal and its edges join, physical and spiritual wounds alikecan yet heal completely only as the result of a vital force fromwithin.

　　Natasha's wound healed in that way. She thought her life wasended, but her love for her mother unexpectedly showed her that theessence of life- love- was still active within her. Love awoke andso did life.

　　Prince Andrew's last days had bound Princess Mary and Natashatogether; this new sorrow brought them still closer to one another.Princess Mary put off her departure, and for three weeks lookedafter Natasha as if she had been a sick child. The last weeks passedin her mother's bedroom had strained Natasha's physical strength.

　　One afternoon noticing Natasha shivering with fever, Princess Marytook her to her own room and made her lie down on the bed. Natasha laydown, but when Princess Mary had drawn the blinds and was going awayshe called her back.

　　"I don't want to sleep, Mary, sit by me a little."

　　"You are tired- try to sleep."

　　"No, no. Why did you bring me away? She will be asking for me."

　　"She is much better. She spoke so well today," said Princess Mary.

　　Natasha lay on the bed and in the semidarkness of the room scannedPrincess Mary's face.

　　"Is she like him?" thought Natasha. "Yes, like and yet not like. Butshe is quite original, strange, new, and unknown. And she loves me.What is in her heart? All that is good. But how? What is her mindlike? What does she think about me? Yes, she is splendid!"

　　"Mary," she said timidly, drawing Princess Mary's hand to herself,"Mary, you mustn't think me wicked. No? Mary darling, how I loveyou! Let us be quite, quite friends."

　　And Natasha, embracing her, began kissing her face and hands, makingPrincess Mary feel shy but happy by this demonstration of herfeelings.

　　From that day a tender and passionate friendship such as exists onlybetween women was established between Princess Mary and Natasha.They were continually kissing and saying tender things to oneanother and spent most of their time together. When one went out theother became restless and hastened to rejoin her. Together they feltmore in harmony with one another than either of them felt with herselfwhen alone. A feeling stronger than friendship sprang up between them;an exclusive feeling of life being possible only in each other'spresence.

　　Sometimes they were silent for hours; sometimes after they werealready in bed they would begin talking and go on till morning. Theyspoke most of what was long past. Princess Mary spoke of herchildhood, of her mother, her father, and her daydreams; andNatasha, who with a passive lack of understanding had formerlyturned away from that life of devotion, submission, and the poetryof Christian self-sacrifice, now feeling herself bound to PrincessMary by affection, learned to love her past too and to understand aside of life previously incomprehensible to her. She did not thinkof applying submission and self-abnegation to her own life, for shewas accustomed to seek other joys, but she understood and loved inanother those previously incomprehensible virtues. For PrincessMary, listening to Natasha's tales of childhood and early youth, therealso opened out a new and hitherto uncomprehended side of life: beliefin life and its enjoyment.

　　Just as before, they never mentioned him so as not to lower (as theythought) their exalted feelings by words; but this silence about himhad the effect of making them gradually begin to forget him withoutbeing conscious of it.

　　Natasha had grown thin and pale and physically so weak that they alltalked about her health, and this pleased her. But sometimes she wassuddenly overcome by fear not only of death but of sickness, weakness,and loss of good looks, and involuntarily she examined her bare armcarefully, surprised at its thinness, and in the morning noticed herdrawn and, as it seemed to her, piteous face in her glass. It seemedto her that things must be so, and yet it was dreadfully sad.

　　One day she went quickly upstairs and found herself out of breath.Unconsciously she immediately invented a reason for going down, andthen, testing her strength, ran upstairs again, observing the result.

　　Another time when she called Dunyasha her voice trembled, so shecalled again- though she could hear Dunyasha coming- called her in thedeep chest tones in which she had been wont to sing, sing, andlistened attentively to herself.

　　She did not know and would not have believed it, but beneath thelayer of slime that covered her soul and seemed to her impenetrable,delicate young shoots of grass were already sprouting, which takingroot would so cover with their living verdure the grief that weighedher down that it would soon no longer be seen or noticed. The woundhad begun to heal from within.

　　At the end of January Princess Mary left for Moscow, and the countinsisted on Natasha's going with her to consult the doctors.