War and Peace Leo Tolstoy (best e books to read .TXT) 📖

confidence that God would hear him had come to pass; but Nikoláy was as much astonished as if it were something extraordinary and unexpected, and as if the very fact that it had happened so quickly proved that it had not come from God to whom he had prayed, but by some ordinary coincidence.

This unexpected and, as it seemed to Nikoláy, quite voluntary letter from Sónya freed him from the knot that fettered him and from which there had seemed no escape. She wrote that the last unfortunate events⁠—the loss of almost the whole of the Rostóvs’ Moscow property⁠—and the countess’ repeatedly expressed wish that Nikoláy should marry Princess Bolkónskaya, together with his silence and coldness of late, had all combined to make her decide to release him from his promise and set him completely free.

It would be too painful to me to think that I might be a cause of sorrow or discord in the family that has been so good to me (she wrote), and my love has no aim but the happiness of those I love; so, Nicolas, I beg you to consider yourself free, and to be assured that, in spite of everything, no one can love you more than does

Your Sónya

Both letters were written from Tróitsa. The other, from the countess, described their last days in Moscow, their departure, the fire, and the destruction of all their property. In this letter the countess also mentioned that Prince Andréy was among the wounded traveling with them; his state was very critical, but the doctor said there was now more hope. Sónya and Natásha were nursing him.

Next day Nikoláy took his mother’s letter and went to see Princess Márya. Neither he nor she said a word about what “Natásha nursing him” might mean, but thanks to this letter Nikoláy suddenly became almost as intimate with the princess as if they were relations.

The following day he saw Princess Márya off on her journey to Yaroslávl, and a few days later left to rejoin his regiment.

VIII

Sónya’s letter written from Tróitsa, which had come as an answer to Nikoláy’s prayer, was prompted by this: the thought of getting Nikoláy married to an heiress occupied the old countess’ mind more and more. She knew that Sónya was the chief obstacle to this happening, and Sónya’s life in the countess’ house had grown harder and harder, especially after they had received a letter from Nikoláy telling of his meeting with Princess Márya in Boguchárovo. The countess let no occasion slip of making humiliating or cruel allusions to Sónya.

But a few days before they left Moscow, moved and excited by all that was going on, she called Sónya to her and, instead of reproaching and making demands on her, tearfully implored her to sacrifice herself and repay all that the family had done for her by breaking off her engagement with Nikoláy.

“I shall not be at peace till you promise me this.”

Sónya burst into hysterical tears and replied through her sobs that she would do anything and was prepared for anything, but gave no actual promise and could not bring herself to decide to do what was demanded of her. She must sacrifice herself for the family that had reared and brought her up. To sacrifice herself for others was Sónya’s habit. Her position in the house was such that only by sacrifice could she show her worth, and she was accustomed to this and loved doing it. But in all her former acts of self-sacrifice she had been happily conscious that they raised her in her own esteem and in that of others, and so made her more worthy of Nicolas whom she loved more than anything in the world. But now they wanted her to sacrifice the very thing that constituted the whole reward for her self-sacrifice and the whole meaning of her life. And for the first time she felt bitterness against those who had been her benefactors only to torture her the more painfully; she felt jealous of Natásha who had never experienced anything of this sort, had never needed to sacrifice herself, but made others sacrifice themselves for her and yet was beloved by everybody. And for the first time Sónya felt that out of her pure, quiet love for Nicolas a passionate feeling was beginning to grow up which was stronger than principle, virtue, or religion. Under the influence of this feeling Sónya, whose life of dependence had taught her involuntarily to be secretive, having answered the countess in vague general terms, avoided talking with her and resolved to wait till she should see Nikoláy, not in order to set him free but on the contrary at that meeting to bind him to her forever.

The bustle and terror of the Rostóvs’ last days in Moscow stifled the gloomy thoughts that oppressed Sónya. She was glad to find escape from them in practical activity. But when she heard of Prince Andréy’s presence in their house, despite her sincere pity for him and for Natásha, she was seized by a joyful and superstitious feeling that God did not intend her to be separated from Nicolas. She knew that Natásha loved no one but Prince Andréy and had never ceased to love him. She knew that being thrown together again under such terrible circumstances they would again fall in love with one another, and that Nikoláy would then not be able to marry Princess Márya as they would be within the prohibited degrees of affinity. Despite all the terror of what had happened during those last days and during the first days of their journey, this feeling that Providence was intervening in her personal affairs cheered Sónya.

At the Tróitsa monastery the Rostóvs first broke their journey for a whole day.

Three large rooms were assigned to them in the monastery hostelry, one of which was occupied by Prince Andréy. The wounded man was much better that day and Natásha was sitting with him. In