الفصل الفصل 145 · 第145章

Soon after the Christmas holidays Nicholas told his mother of his love

for Sónya and of his firm resolve to marry her. The countess, who

had long noticed what was going on between them and was expecting this

declaration, listened to him in silence and then told her son that he

might marry whom he pleased, but that neither she nor his father would

give their blessing to such a marriage. Nicholas, for the first time,

felt that his mother was displeased with him and that, despite her love

for him, she would not give way. Coldly, without looking at her son,

she sent for her husband and, when he came, tried briefly and coldly to

inform him of the facts, in her son’s presence, but unable to restrain

herself she burst into tears of vexation and left the room. The old

count began irresolutely to admonish Nicholas and beg him to abandon his

purpose. Nicholas replied that he could not go back on his word, and his

father, sighing and evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and

went in to the countess. In all his encounters with his son, the count

was always conscious of his own guilt toward him for having wasted the

family fortune, and so he could not be angry with him for refusing to

marry an heiress and choosing the dowerless Sónya. On this occasion, he

was only more vividly conscious of the fact that if his affairs had not

been in disorder, no better wife for Nicholas than Sónya could have

been wished for, and that no one but himself with his Mítenka and

his uncomfortable habits was to blame for the condition of the family

finances.

The father and mother did not speak of the matter to their son again,

but a few days later the countess sent for Sónya and, with a cruelty

neither of them expected, reproached her niece for trying to catch

Nicholas and for ingratitude. Sónya listened silently with downcast

eyes to the countess’ cruel words, without understanding what

was required of her. She was ready to sacrifice everything for her

benefactors. Self-sacrifice was her most cherished idea but in this case

she could not see what she ought to sacrifice, or for whom. She could

not help loving the countess and the whole Rostóv family, but neither

could she help loving Nicholas and knowing that his happiness depended

on that love. She was silent and sad and did not reply. Nicholas felt

the situation to be intolerable and went to have an explanation with his

mother. He first implored her to forgive him and Sónya and consent to

their marriage, then he threatened that if she molested Sónya he would

at once marry her secretly.

The countess, with a coldness her son had never seen in her before,

replied that he was of age, that Prince Andrew was marrying without his

father’s consent, and he could do the same, but that she would never

receive that intriguer as her daughter.

Exploding at the word intriguer, Nicholas, raising his voice, told

his mother he had never expected her to try to force him to sell his

feelings, but if that were so, he would say for the last time.... But he

had no time to utter the decisive word which the expression of his face

caused his mother to await with terror, and which would perhaps have

forever remained a cruel memory to them both. He had not time to say it,

for Natásha, with a pale and set face, entered the room from the door

at which she had been listening.

“Nicholas, you are talking nonsense! Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet, I

tell you!...” she almost screamed, so as to drown his voice.

“Mamma darling, it’s not at all so... my poor, sweet darling,” she

said to her mother, who conscious that they had been on the brink of

a rupture gazed at her son with terror, but in the obstinacy and

excitement of the conflict could not and would not give way.

“Nicholas, I’ll explain to you. Go away! Listen, Mamma darling,”

said Natásha.

Her words were incoherent, but they attained the purpose at which she

was aiming.

The countess, sobbing heavily, hid her face on her daughter’s breast,

while Nicholas rose, clutching his head, and left the room.

Natásha set to work to effect a reconciliation, and so far succeeded

that Nicholas received a promise from his mother that Sónya should not

be troubled, while he on his side promised not to undertake anything

without his parents’ knowledge.

Firmly resolved, after putting his affairs in order in the regiment,

to retire from the army and return and marry Sónya, Nicholas, serious,

sorrowful, and at variance with his parents, but, as it seemed to him,

passionately in love, left at the beginning of January to rejoin his

regiment.

After Nicholas had gone things in the Rostóv household were more

depressing than ever, and the countess fell ill from mental agitation.

Sónya was unhappy at the separation from Nicholas and still more so on

account of the hostile tone the countess could not help adopting toward

her. The count was more perturbed than ever by the condition of his

affairs, which called for some decisive action. Their town house and

estate near Moscow had inevitably to be sold, and for this they had to

go to Moscow. But the countess’ health obliged them to delay their

departure from day to day.

Natásha, who had borne the first period of separation from her

betrothed lightly and even cheerfully, now grew more agitated and

impatient every day. The thought that her best days, which she would

have employed in loving him, were being vainly wasted, with no advantage

to anyone, tormented her incessantly. His letters for the most part

irritated her. It hurt her to think that while she lived only in the

thought of him, he was living a real life, seeing new places and new

people that interested him. The more interesting his letters were

the more vexed she felt. Her letters to him, far from giving her any

comfort, seemed to her a wearisome and artificial obligation. She could

not write, because she could not conceive the possibility of expressing

sincerely in a letter even a thousandth part of what she expressed by

voice, smile, and glance. She wrote to him formal, monotonous, and dry

letters, to which she attached no importance herself, and in the rough

copies of which the countess corrected her mistakes in spelling.

There was still no improvement in the countess’ health, but it was

impossible to defer the journey to Moscow any longer. Natásha’s

trousseau had to be ordered and the house sold. Moreover, Prince Andrew

was expected in Moscow, where old Prince Bolkónski was spending the

winter, and Natásha felt sure he had already arrived.

So the countess remained in the country, and the count, taking Sónya

and Natásha with him, went to Moscow at the end of January.