Book Six: 1808-10 - Chapter XIII

by Leo Tolstoy

　　One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket,without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showingunder her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug andbowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, alsoin a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair incurlpapers, ran in. The countess- her prayerful mood dispelled- lookedround and frowned. She was finishing her last prayer: "Can it bethat this couch will be my grave?" Natasha, flushed and eager,seeing her mother in prayer, suddenly checked her rush, half sat down,and unconsciously put out her tongue as if chiding herself. Seeingthat her mother was still praying she ran on tiptoe to the bed and,rapidly slipping one little foot against the other, pushed off herslippers and jumped onto the bed the countess had feared mightbecome her grave. This couch was high, with a feather bed and fivepillows each smaller than the one below. Natasha jumped on it, sankinto the feather bed, rolled over to the wall, and began snugglingup the bedclothes as she settled down, raising her knees to herchin, kicking out and laughing almost inaudibly, now coveringherself up head and all, and now peeping at her mother. The countessfinished her prayers and came to the bed with a stern face, butseeing, that Natasha's head was covered, she smiled in her kind,weak way.

　　"Now then, now then!" said she.

　　"Mamma, can we have a talk? Yes?" said Natasha. "Now, just one onyour throat and another... that'll do!" And seizing her mother roundthe neck, she kissed her on the throat. In her behavior to hermother Natasha seemed rough, but she was so sensitive and tactful thathowever she clasped her mother she always managed to do it withouthurting her or making her feel uncomfortable or displeased.

　　"Well, what is it tonight?" said the mother, having arranged herpillows and waited until Natasha, after turning over a couple oftimes, had settled down beside her under the quilt, spread out herarms, and assumed a serious expression.

　　These visits of Natasha's at night before the count returned fromhis club were one of the greatest pleasures of both mother, anddaughter.

　　"What is it tonight?- But I have to tell you..."

　　Natasha put her hand on her mother's mouth.

　　"About Boris... I know," she said seriously; "that's what I havecome about. Don't say it- I know. No, do tell me!" and she removed herhand. "Tell me, Mamma! He's nice?"

　　"Natasha, you are sixteen. At your age I was married. You sayBoris is nice. He is very nice, and I love him like a son. But whatthen?... What are you thinking about? You have quite turned hishead, I can see that...."

　　As she said this the countess looked round at her daughter.Natasha was lying looking steadily straight before her at one of themahogany sphinxes carved on the corners of the bedstead, so that thecountess only saw her daughter's face in profile. That face struck herby its peculiarly serious and concentrated expression.

　　Natasha was listening and considering.

　　"Well, what then?" said she.

　　"You have quite turned his head, and why? What do you want of him?You know you can't marry him."

　　"Why not?" said Natasha, without changing her position.

　　"Because he is young, because he is poor, because he is arelation... and because you yourself don't love him."

　　"How do you know?"

　　"I know. It is not right, darling!"

　　"But if I want to..." said Natasha.

　　"Leave off talking nonsense," said the countess.

　　"But if I want to..."

　　"Natasha, I am in earnest..."

　　Natasha did not let her finish. She drew the countess' large hand toher, kissed it on the back and then on the palm, then again turnedit over and began kissing first one knuckle, then the space betweenthe knuckles, then the next knuckle, whispering, "January, February,March, April, May. Speak, Mamma, why don't you say anything? Speak!"said she, turning to her mother, who was tenderly gazing at herdaughter and in that contemplation seemed to have forgotten all shehad wished to say.

　　"It won't do, my love! Not everyone will understand thisfriendship dating from your childish days, and to see him sointimate with you may injure you in the eyes of other young men whovisit us, and above all it torments him for nothing. He may alreadyhave found a suitable and wealthy match, and now he's half crazy."

　　"Crazy?" repeated Natasha.

　　"I'll tell you some things about myself. I had a cousin..."

　　"I know! Cyril Matveich... but he is old."

　　"He was not always old. But this is what I'll do, Natasha, I'll havea talk with Boris. He need not come so often...."

　　"Why not, if he likes to?"

　　"Because I know it will end in nothing...."

　　"How can you know? No, Mamma, don't speak to him! What nonsense!"said Natasha in the tone of one being deprived of her property. "Well,I won't marry, but let him come if he enjoys it and I enjoy it."Natasha smiled and looked at her mother. "Not to marry, but justso," she added.

　　"How so, my pet?"

　　"Just so. There's no need for me to marry him. But... just so."

　　"Just so, just so," repeated the countess, and shaking all over, shewent off into a good humored, unexpected, elderly laugh.

　　"Don't laugh, stop!" cried Natasha. "You're shaking the whole bed!You're awfully like me, just such another giggler.... Wait..." and sheseized the countess' hands and kissed a knuckle of the littlefinger, saying, "June," and continued, kissing, "July, August," on theother hand. "But, Mamma, is he very much in love? What do you think?Was anybody ever so much in love with you? And he's very nice, very,very nice. Only not quite my taste- he is so narrow, like thedining-room clock.... Don't you understand? Narrow, you know- gray,light gray..."

　　"What rubbish you're talking!" said the countess.

　　Natasha continued: "Don't you really understand? Nicholas wouldunderstand.... Bezukhov, now, is blue, dark-blue and red, and he issquare."

　　"You flirt with him too," said the countess, laughing.

　　"No, he is a Freemason, I have found out. He is fine, dark-blueand red.... How can I explain it to you?"

　　"Little countess!" the count's voice called from behind the door."You're not asleep?" Natasha jumped up, snatched up her slippers,and ran barefoot to her own room.

　　It was a long time before she could sleep. She kept thinking that noone could understand all that she understood and all there was in her.

　　"Sonya?" she thought, glancing at that curled-up, sleeping littlekitten with her enormous plait of hair. "No, how could she? She'svirtuous. She fell in love with Nicholas and does not wish to knowanything more. Even Mamma does not understand. It is wonderful howclever I am and how... charming she is," she went on, speaking ofherself in the third person, and imagining it was some very wiseman- the wisest and best of men- who was saying it of her. "There iseverything, everything in her," continued this man. "She isunusually intelligent, charming... and then she is pretty,uncommonly pretty, and agile- she swims and rides splendidly... andher voice! One can really say it's a wonderful voice!"

　　She hummed a scrap from her favorite opera by Cherubini, threwherself on her bed, laughed at the pleasant thought that she wouldimmediately fall asleep, called Dunyasha the maid to put out thecandle, and before Dunyasha had left the room had already passedinto yet another happier world of dreams, where everything was aslight and beautiful as in reality, and even more so because it wasdifferent.

　　Next day the countess called Boris aside and had a talk with him,after which he ceased coming to the Rostovs'.