Book Twelve: 1812 - Chapter XIV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with theRostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared to go there, in spite of heraunt's efforts to dissuade her- and not merely to go herself but totake her nephew with her. Whether it were difficult or easy,possible or impossible, she did not ask and did not want to know: itwas her duty not only herself to be near her brother who was perhapsdying, but to do everything possible to take his son to him, and soshe prepared to set off. That she had not heard from Prince Andrewhimself, Princess Mary attributed to his being too weak to write or tohis considering the long journey too hard and too dangerous for herand his son.

　　In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages werethe huge family coach in which she had traveled to Voronezh, asemiopen trap, and a baggage cart. With her traveled MademoiselleBourienne, little Nicholas and his tutor, her old nurse, threemaids, Tikhon, and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent toaccompany her.

　　The usual route through Moscow could not be thought of, and theroundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to take through Lipetsk,Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was very long and, as post horses were noteverywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where theFrench were said to have shown themselves was even dangerous.

　　During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne, Dessalles, andPrincess Mary's servants were astonished at her energy and firmness ofspirit. She went to bed later and rose earlier than any of them, andno difficulties daunted her. Thanks to her activity and energy,which infected her fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl bythe end of the second week.

　　The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of herlife. Her love for Rostov no longer tormented or agitated her. Itfilled her whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and sheno longer struggled against it. Latterly she had become convinced thatshe loved and was beloved, though she never said this definitely toherself in words. She had become convinced of it at her last interviewwith Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that her brother waswith the Rostovs. Not by a single word had Nicholas alluded to thefact that Prince Andrew's relations with Natasha might, if herecovered, be renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that heknew and thought of this.

　　Yet in spite of that, his relation to her- considerate, delicate,and loving- not only remained unchanged, but it sometimes seemed toPrincess Mary that he was even glad that the family connection betweenthem allowed him to express his friendship more freely. She knewthat she loved for the first and only time in her life and felt thatshe was beloved, and was happy in regard to it.

　　But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did notprevent her feeling grief for her brother with full force; on thecontrary, that spiritual tranquility on the one side made it themore possible for her to give full play to her feeling for herbrother. That feeling was so strong at the moment of leavingVoronezh that those who saw her off, as they looked at her careworn,despairing face, felt sure she would fall ill on the journey. Butthe very difficulties and preoccupations of the journey, which shetook so actively in hand, saved her for a while from her grief andgave her strength.

　　As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary thought only ofthe journey itself, forgetting its object. But as she approachedYaroslavl the thought of what might await her there- not after manydays, but that very evening- again presented itself to her and heragitation increased to its utmost limit.

　　The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out where theRostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what condition Prince Andrewwas, when he met the big coach just entering the town gates wasappalled by the terrible pallor of the princess' face that lookedout at him from the window.

　　"I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs arestaying at the merchant Bronnikov's house, in the Square not farfrom here, right above the Volga," said the courier.

　　Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry, notunderstanding why he did not reply to what she chiefly wanted to know:how was her brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her.

　　"How is the prince?" she asked.

　　"His excellency is staying in the same house with them."

　　"Then he is alive," thought Princess Mary, and asked in a low voice:"How is he?"

　　"The servants say he is still the same."

　　What "still the same" might mean Princess Mary did not ask, but withan unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old Nicholas, who was sittingin front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed herhead and did not raise it again till the heavy coach, rumbling,shaking and swaying, came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered asthey were let down.

　　The carriage door was opened. On the left there was water- a greatriver- and on the right a porch. There were people at the entrance:servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait of black hair, smiling asit seemed to Princess Mary in an unpleasantly affected way. (Thiswas Sonya.) Princess Mary ran up the steps. "This way, this way!" saidthe girl, with the same artificial smile, and the princess foundherself in the hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who camerapidly to meet her with a look of emotion. This was the countess. Sheembraced Princess Mary and kissed her.

　　"Mon enfant!" she muttered, "je vous aime et vous connais depuislongtemps."*

　　*"My child! I love you and have known you a long time."

　　Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this was thecountess and that it was necessary to say something to her. Hardlyknowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases inFrench in the same tone as those that had been addressed to her, andasked: "How is he?"

　　"The doctor says that he is not in danger," said the countess, butas she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her gesture conveyeda contradiction of her words.

　　"Where is he? Can I see him- can I?" asked the princess.

　　"One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this his son?" saidthe countess, turning to little Nicholas who was coming in withDessalles. "There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh,what a lovely boy!"

　　The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room, where Sonyawas talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The countess caressed theboy, and the old count came in and welcomed the princess. He hadchanged very much since Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he hadbeen a brisk, cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful,bewildered person. While talking to Princess Mary he continuallylooked round as if asking everyone whether he was doing the rightthing. After the destruction of Moscow and of his property, thrown outof his accustomed groove he seemed to have lost the sense of his ownsignificance and to feel that there was no longer a place for him inlife.

　　In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as possible,and her vexation that at the moment when all she wanted was to see himthey should be trying to entertain her and pretending to admire hernephew, the princess noticed all that was going on around her and feltthe necessity of submitting, for a time, to this new order of thingswhich she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though itwas hard for her she was not vexed with these people.

　　"This is my niece," said the count, introducing Sonya- "You don'tknow her, Princess?"

　　Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the hostilefeeling that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed her. But shefelt oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was sofar from what was in her own heart.

　　"Where is he?" she asked again, addressing them all.

　　"He is downstairs. Natasha is with him," answered Sonya, flushing."We have sent to ask. I think you must be tired, Princess."

　　Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary's eyes. Sheturned away and was about to ask the countess again how to go tohim, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heardat the door. The princess looked round and saw Natasha coming in,almost running- that Natasha whom she had liked so little at theirmeeting in Moscow long since.

　　But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha's face before sherealized that here was a real comrade in her grief, and consequently afriend. She ran to meet her, embraced her, and began to cry on hershoulder.

　　As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew's bed,heard of Princess Mary's arrival, she softly left his room andhastened to her with those swift steps that had sounded buoyant toPrincess Mary.

　　There was only one expression on her agitated face when she ran intothe drawing room- that of love- boundless love for him, for her, andfor all that was near to the man she loved; and of pity, suffering forothers, and passionate desire to give herself entirely to helpingthem. It was plain that at that moment there was in Natasha's heart nothought of herself or of her own relations with Prince Andrew.

　　Princess Mary, with her acute sensibility, understood all this atthe first glance at Natasha's face, and wept on her shoulder withsorrowful pleasure.

　　"Come, come to him, Mary," said Natasha, leading her into theother room.

　　Princess Mary raised her head, dried her eyes, and turned toNatasha. She felt that from her she would be able to understand andlearn everything.

　　"How..." she began her question but stopped short.

　　She felt that it was impossible to ask, or to answer, in words.Natasha's face eyes would eyes would have to tell her all more clearlyand profoundly.

　　Natasha was gazing at her, but seemed afraid and in doubt whether tosay all she knew or not; she seemed to feel that before those luminouseyes which penetrated into the very depths of her heart, it wasimpossible not to tell the whole truth which she saw. And suddenly,Natasha's lips twitched, ugly wrinkles gathered round her mouth, andcovering her face with her hands she burst into sobs.

　　Princess Mary understood.

　　But she still hoped, and asked, in words she herself did not trust:

　　"But how is his wound? What is his general condition?"

　　"You, you... will see," was all Natasha could say.

　　They sat a little while downstairs near his room till they hadleft off crying and were able to go to him with calm faces.

　　"How has his whole illness gone? Is it long since he grew worse?When did this happen?" Princess Mary inquired.

　　Natasha told her that at first there had been danger from hisfeverish condition and the pain he suffered, but at Troitsa that hadpassed and the doctor had only been afraid of gangrene. That dangerhad also passed. When they reached Yaroslavl the wound had begun tofester (Natasha knew all about such things as festering) and thedoctor had said that the festering might take a normal course. Thenfever set in, but the doctor had said the fever was not very serious.

　　"But two days ago this suddenly happened," said Natasha,struggling with her sobs. "I don't know why, but you will see whathe is like."

　　"Is he weaker? Thinner?" asked the princess.

　　"No, it's not that, but worse. You will see. O, Mary, he is toogood, he cannot, cannot live, because..."