War and Peace Leo Tolstoy (best e books to read .TXT) đ
- Author: Leo Tolstoy
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âNatĂĄlya!â said MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna. âI wish for your good. Lie still, stay like that then, I wonât touch you. But listen. I wonât tell you how guilty you are. You know that yourself. But when your father comes back tomorrow what am I to tell him? Eh?â
Again NatĂĄshaâs body shook with sobs.
âSuppose he finds out, and your brother, and your betrothed?â
âI have no betrothed: I have refused him!â cried NatĂĄsha.
âThatâs all the same,â continued MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna. âIf they hear of this, will they let it pass? He, your father, I know himâ ââ ⊠if he challenges him to a duel will that be all right? Eh?â
âOh, let me be! Why have you interfered at all? Why? Why? Who asked you to?â shouted NatĂĄsha, raising herself on the sofa and looking malignantly at MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna.
âBut what did you want?â cried MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna, growing angry again. âWere you kept under lock and key? Who hindered his coming to the house? Why carry you off as if you were some gypsy singing girl?â ââ ⊠Well, if he had carried you offâ ââ ⊠do you think they wouldnât have found him? Your father, or brother, or your betrothed? And heâs a scoundrel, a wretchâ âthatâs a fact!â
âHe is better than any of you!â exclaimed NatĂĄsha getting up. âIf you hadnât interferedâ ââ ⊠Oh, my God! What is it all? What is it? SĂłnya, why?â ââ ⊠Go away!â
And she burst into sobs with the despairing vehemence with which people bewail disasters they feel they have themselves occasioned. MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna was to speak again but NatĂĄsha cried out:
âGo away! Go away! You all hate and despise me!â and she threw herself back on the sofa.
MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna went on admonishing her for some time, enjoining on her that it must all be kept from her father and assuring her that nobody would know anything about it if only NatĂĄsha herself would undertake to forget it all and not let anyone see that something had happened. NatĂĄsha did not reply, nor did she sob any longer, but she grew cold and had a shivering fit. MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna put a pillow under her head, covered her with two quilts, and herself brought her some lime-flower water, but NatĂĄsha did not respond to her.
âWell, let her sleep,â said MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna as she went out of the room supposing NatĂĄsha to be asleep.
But NatĂĄsha was not asleep; with pale face and fixed wide-open eyes she looked straight before her. All that night she did not sleep or weep and did not speak to SĂłnya who got up and went to her several times.
Next day Count IlyĂĄ AndrĂ©evich returned from his estate near Moscow in time for lunch as he had promised. He was in very good spirits; the affair with the purchaser was going on satisfactorily, and there was nothing to keep him any longer in Moscow, away from the countess whom he missed. MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna met him and told him that NatĂĄsha had been very unwell the day before and that they had sent for the doctor, but that she was better now. NatĂĄsha had not left her room that morning. With compressed and parched lips and dry fixed eyes, she sat at the window, uneasily watching the people who drove past and hurriedly glancing round at anyone who entered the room. She was evidently expecting news of him and that he would come or would write to her.
When the count came to see her she turned anxiously round at the sound of a manâs footstep, and then her face resumed its cold and malevolent expression. She did not even get up to greet him. âWhat is the matter with you, my angel? Are you ill?â asked the count.
After a momentâs silence NatĂĄsha answered: âYes, ill.â
In reply to the countâs anxious inquiries as to why she was so dejected and whether anything had happened to her betrothed, she assured him that nothing had happened and asked him not to worry. MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna confirmed NatĂĄshaâs assurances that nothing had happened. From the pretense of illness, from his daughterâs distress, and by the embarrassed faces of SĂłnya and MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna, the count saw clearly that something had gone wrong during his absence, but it was so terrible for him to think that anything disgraceful had happened to his beloved daughter, and he so prized his own cheerful tranquillity, that he avoided inquiries and tried to assure himself that nothing particularly had happened; and he was only dissatisfied that her indisposition delayed their return to the country.
XIXFrom the day his wife arrived in Moscow Pierre had been intending to go away somewhere, so as not to be near her. Soon after the RostĂłvs came to Moscow the effect NatĂĄsha had on him made him hasten to carry out his intention. He went to Tver to see Osip AlexĂ©evichâs widow, who had long since promised to hand over to him some papers of her deceased husbandâs.
When he returned to Moscow Pierre was handed a letter from MĂĄrya DmĂtrievna asking him to come and see her on a matter of great importance relating to AndrĂ©y BolkĂłnski and his betrothed. Pierre had been avoiding NatĂĄsha because it seemed to him that his feeling for her was stronger than a married manâs should be for his friendâs fiancĂ©e. Yet some fate constantly threw them together.
âWhat can have happened? And what can they want with me?â thought he as he dressed to go to MĂĄrya DmĂtrievnaâs. âIf only Prince AndrĂ©y would hurry up and come and marry her!â thought he on his way to the house.
On the TverskĂły Boulevard a familiar voice called to him.
âPierre! Been back long?â someone shouted. Pierre raised his head. In a sleigh drawn by two gray trotting-horses that were bespattering the dashboard with snow, Anatole and his constant companion MakĂĄrin dashed past. Anatole was sitting upright in the
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