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PTER XVII THE CARD-TABLES were opened, parties were made up for boston, and the count's guests settled themselves in the two drawing-rooms, the divan-room, and the library. The count, holding his cards in a fan, with some difficulty kept himself from dropping into his customary after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The young people, at the countess's suggestion, gathered about the clavichord and the harp. Julie was first pressed by every one to perform, and played a piece with variations on the harp. Then she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nikolay, who were noted for their musical talents, to sing something. Natasha, who was treated by every one as though she were grown-up, was visibly very proud of it, and at the same time made shy by it. “What are we to sing?” she asked. “The ‘Spring,' ” answered Nikolay. “Well, then, let's make haste. Boris, come here,” said Natasha. “But where's Sonya?” She looked round, and seeing that her friend was not in the room, she ran off to find her. After running to Sonya's room, and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the nursery: Sonya was not there either. Natasha knew that she must be on the chest in the corridor. The chest in the corridor was the scene of the woes of the younger feminine generation of the house of Rostov. Yes, Sonya was on the chest, lying face downwards, crushing her gossamer pink frock on their old nurse's dirty striped feather-bed. Her face hidden in her fingers, she was sobbing, and her little bare shoulders were heaving. Natasha's birthday face that had been festive and excited all day, changed at once; her eyes wore a fixed look, then her broad neck quivered, and the corners of her lips drooped. “Sonya! what is it? … what's the matter with you? Oo-oo-oo! …” and Natasha, letting her big mouth drop open and becoming quite ugly, wailed like a baby, not knowing why, simply because Sonya was crying. Sonya tried to lift up her head, tried to answer, but could not, and buried her face more than ever. Natasha cried, sitting on the edge of the blue feather-bed and hugging her friend. Making an effort, Sonya got up, began to dry her tears and to talk. “Nikolinka's going away in a week, his … paper … has come … he told me himself. … But still I shouldn't cry …” (she showed a sheet of paper she was holding in her hand; on it were verses written by Nikolay). “I shouldn't have cried; but you can't … no one can understand … what a soul he has.” And again she fell to weeping at the thought of how noble his soul was. “It's all right for you … I'm not envious … I love you and Boris too,” she said, controlling herself a little; “he's so nice … there are no difficulties in your way. But Nikolay's my cousin … the metropolitan chief priest himself … has to … or else it's impossible. And so, if mamma's told” (Sonya looked on the countess and addressed her as a mother), “she'll say that I'm spoiling Nikolay's career, that I have no heart, that I'm ungrateful, though really … in God's name” (she made the sign of the cross) “I love her so, and all of you, only Vera … Why is it? What have I done to her? I am so grateful to you that I would be glad to sacrifice everything for you, but I have nothing. …” Sonya could say no more, and again she buried her head in her hands and the feather-bed. Natasha tried to comfort her, but her face showed that she grasped all the gravity of her friend's trouble. “Sonya!” she said all at once, as though she had guessed the real cause of her cousin's misery, “of course Vera's been talking to you since dinner? Yes?” “Yes, these verses Nikolay wrote himself, and I copied some others; and she found them on my table, and said she should show them to mamma, and she said too that I was ungrateful, and that mamma would never allow him to marry me, but that he would marry Julie. You see how he has been with her all day … Natasha! why is it?” And again she sobbed more bitterly than ever. Natasha lifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting her. “Sonya, don't you believe her, darling; don't believe her. Do you remember how we talked with Nikolay, all three of us together, in the divan-room, do you remember, after supper? Why, we settled how it should all be. I don't quite remember now, but do you remember, it was all right and all possible. Why, uncle Shinshin's brother is married to his first cousin, and we're only second cousins, you know. And Boris said that it's quite easily arranged. You know I told him all about it. He's so clever and so good,” said Natasha. … “Don't cry, Sonya, darling, sweet one, precious, Sonya,” and she kissed her, laughing. “Vera is spiteful; never mind her! and it will all come right and she won't tell mamma. Nikolinka will tell her himself, and he's never thought of Julie.” And she kissed her on the head. Sonya got up, and the kitten revived; its eyes sparkled, and it was ready, it seemed, to wag its tail, spring on its soft paws and begin to play with a ball, in its own natural, kittenish way. “Do you think so? Really? Truly?” she said rapidly, smoothing her frock and her hair. “Really, truly,” answered Natasha, putting back a stray coil of rough hair on her friend's head; and they both laughed. “Well, come along and sing the ‘Spring.' ” “Let's go, then.” “And do you know that fat Pierre, who was sitting opposite me, he's so funny!” Natasha said suddenly, stopping. “I am enjoying myself so,” and Natasha ran along the corridor. Brushing off the feather fluff from her frock, and thrusting the verses into her bodice next her little throat and prominent breast-bones, Sonya ran with flushed face and light, happy steps, following Natasha along the corridor to the divan-room. At the request of their guests the young people sang the quartette the “Spring,” with which every one was delighted; then Nikolay sang a song he had lately learnt. “How sweet in the moon's kindly ray,In fancy to thyself to say,That earth holds still one dear to thee!Whose thoughts, whose dreams are all of thee!That her fair fingers as of oldStray still upon the harp of gold,Making sweet, passionate harmony,That to her side doth summon thee!To-morrow and thy bliss is near!Alas! all's past! she is not here!” And he had hardly sung the last words when the young people were getting ready to dance in the big hall, and the musicians began stamping with their feet and coughing in the orchestra. Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room, where Shinshin had started a conversation with him on the political situation, as a subject likely to be of interest to any one who had just come home from abroad, though it did not in fact interest Pierre. Several other persons joined in the conversation. When the orchestra struck up, Natasha walked into the drawing-room, and going straight up to Pierre, laughing and blushing, she said, “Mamma told me to ask you to dance.” “I'm afraid of muddling the figures,” said Pierre, “but if you will be my teacher …” and he gave his fat hand to the slim little girl, putting his arm low down to reach her level. While the couples were placing themselves and the musicians were tuning up, Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly happy; she was dancing with a grown-up person, with a man who had just come from abroad. She was sitting in view of every one and talking to him like a grown-up person. She had in her hand a fan, which some lady had given her to hold, and taking the most modish pose (God knows where and when she had learnt it), fanning herself and smiling all over her face, she talked to her partner. “What a girl! Just look at her, look at her!” said the old countess, crossing the big hall and pointing to Natasha. Natasha coloured and laughed. “Why, what do you mean, mamma? Why should you laugh? Is there anything strange about it?” In the middle of the third écossaise there was a clatter of chairs in the drawing-room, where the count and Marya Dmitryevna were playing, and the greater number of the more honoured guests and elderly people stretching themselves after sitting so long, put their pocket-books and purses in their pockets and came out to the door of the big hall. In front of all came Marya Dmitryevna and the count, both with radiant faces. The count gave his arm, curved into a hoop, to Marya Dmitryevna with playfully exaggerated ceremony, like a ballet-dancer. He drew himself up, and his face beamed with a peculiar, jauntily-knowing smile, and as soon as they had finished dancing the last figure of the écossaise, he clapped his hands to the orchestra, and shouted to the first violin: “Semyon! do you know ‘Daniel Cooper'?” That was the count's favourite dance that he had danced in his youth. (Daniel Cooper was the name of a figure of the anglaise.) “Look at papa!” Natasha shouted to all the room (entirely forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner), and ducking down till her curly head almost touched her knees, she went off into her ringing laugh that filled the hall. Every one in the hall was, in fact, looking with a smile of delight at the gleeful old gentleman. Standing beside his majestic partner, Marya Dmitryevna, who was taller than he was, he curved his arms, swaying them in time to the music, moved his shoulders, twirled with his legs, lightly tapping with his heels, and with a broadening grin on his round face, prepared the spectators for what was to come. As soon as the orchestra played the gay, irresistible air of Daniel Cooper, somewhat like a livelier Russian trepak, all the doorways of the big hall were suddenly filled with the smiling faces of the house-serfs—men on one side, and women on the other—come to look at their master making merry. “Our little father! An eagle he is!” the old nurse said out loud at one door. The count danced well and knew that he did, but his partner could not dance at all, and did not care about dancing well. Her portly figure stood erect, with her mighty arms hanging by her side (she had handed her reticule to the countess). It was only her stern, but comely face that danced. What was expressed by the whole round person of the count, was expressed by Marya Dmitryevna in her more and more beaming countenance and puckered nose. While the count, with greater and greater expenditure of energy, enchanted the spectators by the unexpectedness of the nimble pirouettes and capers of his supple legs, Marya Dmitryevna with the slightest effort in the movement of her shoulders or curving of her arms, when they turned or marked the time with their feet, produced no less impression from the contrast, which everyone appreciated, with her portliness and her habitual severity of demeanour. The dance grew more and more animated. The vis-à-vis could not obtain one moment's attention, and did not attempt to do so. All attention was absorbed by the count and Marya Dmitryevna. Natasha pulled at the sleeve or gown of every one present, urging them to look at papa, though they never took their eyes off the dancers. In the pauses in the dance the count drew a deep breath, waved his hands and shouted to the musician to play faster. More and more quickly, more and more nimbly the count pirouetted, turning now on his toes and now on his heels, round Marya Dmitryevna. At last, twisting his lady round to her place, he executed the last steps, kicking his supple legs up behind him, and bowing his perspiring head and smiling face, with a round sweep of his right arm, amidst a thunder of applause and laughter, in which Natasha's laugh was loudest. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily, and mopping their faces with their batiste handkerchiefs. “That's how they used to dance in our day, ma chère, said the count. “Bravo, Daniel Cooper!” said Marya Dmitryevna, tucking up her sleeves and drawing a deep, prolonged breath. 第十七章 玩波士頓紙牌的桌擺開了，牌局也都湊成了，伯爵的客人們在兩個廳里就座，一間是擺有沙發(fā)的休息室，一間是圖書室。 伯爵把紙牌鋪成扇面形，好不容易才改變午睡的習慣，他對著大家露出一張笑臉。伯爵夫人誘使年輕人聚集在擊弦古銅琴和豎琴的近旁。朱莉在大家的請求下頭一個用豎琴彈奏了一首變奏短曲，她和其余的女孩一塊邀請素以音樂天賦出名的娜塔莎和尼古拉唱一首什么歌。大家像對待大人那樣對待娜塔莎，她因此顯得十分高傲，但同時有幾分膽怯。 “我們唱什么？”她問道。 “《泉水》?！蹦峁爬鸬馈?“喂，快點。鮑里斯，到這里來吧，”娜塔莎說道，“索尼婭究竟到哪里去了？” 她向四周環(huán)顧，看見她的朋友不在房里，便跑去尋找她了。 娜塔莎跑進索尼婭房里，找不到她的女友，便跑到兒童室去了，那里也沒有索尼婭的人影。娜塔莎明白，索尼婭呆在走廊里的箱籠上。走廊里的箱籠是羅斯托夫家年輕婦女們傾吐哀愁的地方。誠然，索尼婭呆在箱籠上，俯臥在保姆那張邋遢的條紋絨毛褥子上，她身上穿的粉紅色的薄紗連衣裙都給揉皺了。她用手蒙著臉，哽噎得大聲痛哭，赤**的肩膀不住地顫抖。娜塔莎整天價因為過命名日而喜形于色，這時分臉色突然變了，她的視線呆滯不動了，之后她的寬大的脖子顫抖了一下，嘴角松垂下來了。 “索尼婭，你怎么樣？……您是怎么回事？嗚——鳴—— 嗚！……” 娜塔莎咧開大嘴哭起來了，樣子變得十分難看，她像兒童似地嚎啕大哭，不知為什么，只是因為索尼婭哭泣的緣故。索尼婭想要抬起頭來，想回答她的話，可是沒法這樣辦，她把頭藏得更深了。娜塔莎哭著，在藍色的絨毛褥子上坐下，一面擁抱著女友。索尼婭鼓足一股勁，欠起身子，揩掉眼淚，開始述說起來。 “過一個禮拜尼古連卡要去打仗了，他的……公文……下達了……他親自對我說了……我并不想哭哩……”她讓娜塔莎看看她拿在手里的一張紙條，那是尼古拉寫的詩句，“我并不想哭哩，可是你沒法了解……誰也沒法了解……他的心腸多么好?！?她于是又哭起來，哭他的心腸太好。 “你覺得挺好……我不妒嫉……我愛你，也愛鮑里斯，”她聚精會神地說道，“他是個可愛的人……對你們毫無妨礙。可是尼古拉是我的表兄……有必要……總主教本人允準……即使那樣也不行。而且，若是媽媽（索尼婭認為伯爵夫人是母親，把她稱呼為母親）……她說我斷送尼古拉的錦繡前程，我沒有好心眼我忘恩負義，說實話……真的……”她在胸前劃了個十字，“我這樣愛她，也愛你們大家，唯獨薇拉……為什么？我有什么對她過不去呢？我十分感謝你們，我樂于為你們犧牲一切，但是我沒有什么可以……” 索尼婭不能再往下說了，又托著頭，埋進絨毛褥子里。娜塔莎安靜下來了，但是從她的臉色可以看出，她心里明白她朋友的苦衷是何等沉重。 “索尼婭，”她忽然說道，仿佛猜中了表姐傷心的真實原因，“薇拉在午飯后大概對你說過什么話？是嗎？” “是的，尼古拉本人寫了這些詩，我還抄了一些別的詩；她在我桌上發(fā)現(xiàn)了，還說要把它拿給媽媽看，說我忘恩負義，說媽媽決不會容許他娶我為妻，他要娶朱莉為妻。你看見，他整天價同她在一塊嗎？……娜塔莎！這是為什么？……” 她又哭了起來，顯得比原先更悲傷了。娜搭莎幫助她欠起身來，擁抱她，透過眼淚微露笑容，開始安慰她。 “索尼婭，我親愛的，不要相信她，不要相信埃你總還記得我們和尼古拉三人在擺滿沙發(fā)的休息室里說的話吧，是在晚飯后，你還記得吧？我們不是拿定了主意，把日后的事情劃算好了嗎？我已經(jīng)記不清了，可是你總還記得事事都美滿，事事都亨通。你看申申叔叔的兄弟娶他的表妹為妻，而我們不就是堂表子妹嘛，鮑里斯也說過完全可以這樣做嘛。你知道，什么事我都對他說了。他既聰明，而又善良，”娜塔莎說道……“索尼婭，我親愛的，你不要哭，索尼婭，我的心肝?！彼幻嫖撬幻姘l(fā)笑?！稗崩鎯磹?，去她的吧！事事都會好起來，她也決不會告訴她媽媽的。尼古拉倒會親口把話說出來，至于朱莉嘛，他連想也沒有想過她。” 她于是吻她的頭。索尼婭稍微抬起身子來，那只小貓也活躍起來了，一雙小眼睛閃閃發(fā)光，它好像就要搖搖尾巴，伸出四雙柔軟的腳爪霍地跳起來，又要去玩耍線團，好像它適宜于這種游戲似的。 “你是這樣想的嗎？說的是實在的話？真的？”她說道，一面飛快地弄平連衣裙和頭發(fā)。 “說實話嗎？真的嗎？”娜塔莎答道，一面給她的朋友弄平辮子下面露出來的一綹粗硬的頭發(fā)。 她們二人都笑了起來。 “喂，我們?nèi)コ度愤@首歌吧?！?“我們?nèi)グ伞！?“你可知道，坐在我對面的這個胖乎乎的皮埃爾多么滑稽可笑！”娜塔莎停步時忽然說道，“我覺得非?？旎?！” 娜塔莎于是在走廊里跑起來了。 索尼婭拍掉身上的絨毛，把詩藏在懷里靠近突出的胸骨的脖子旁邊，她兩頰通紅，邁著輕盈而快活的步子，跟在娜塔莎身后沿著走廊向擺滿沙發(fā)的休息室跑去。年輕人應客人之請唱了一首人人喜歡的四人合唱曲《泉水》之后尼古拉還唱了一首已經(jīng)背熟的歌曲： 在令人欣悅的晚上， 在皎潔月色映照下， 你想象這該是多么幸福： 有個什么人在這塵世上， 她心中暗自把你思念！ 她那秀麗的巧手 撥弄著金色的豎琴， 豎琴激越的和音 把你召喚 召喚到身邊！ 還有一兩天， 幸福的生活就要來臨…… 唉，你的朋友 活不到那么一天！ 他還沒有唱完最后一句歌詞，青年人就在大廳里準備跳舞，樂師們按照霍拉舞曲的節(jié)奏，把腳兒跺得咚咚響，這時傳來他們的咳嗽聲。 皮埃爾坐在客廳里，申申和這個從外國歸來的皮埃爾談論起使他覺得索然無味的政治范疇的事情，還有其他幾個人也和他們攀談起來，當樂隊開始奏樂時，娜塔莎步入客廳，她向皮埃爾身邊徑直地走去，兩臉通紅，含笑地說道：“媽媽吩咐我請您去跳舞?！?“我怕會搞亂了舞步，”皮埃爾說道，“不過，假如您愿意當我的老師……” 于是他低低地垂下他那只肥胖的手，遞給苗條的少女。 當一對對男女拉開距離站著、樂師正在調(diào)音律時，皮埃爾和他的小舞伴一同坐下來。娜塔莎覺得非常幸福：她和國外回來的大人跳過舞了。她在大家眼前坐著，像大人那樣和他交談。她手里拿著一把折扇，一位小姐讓她拿去扇扇的。她裝出一副地道的交際花的姿態(tài)（天知道她是何時何地學到的本領），她扇扇子，隔著折扇露出微笑，和她的舞伴交談。 “她是啥模樣？她是啥模樣？你們看吧，你們看吧?！崩喜舴蛉俗哌^大廳，用手指著娜塔莎，說道。 娜塔莎兩頰通紅，笑了起來。 “媽媽，怎么啦？您何苦呢？這有什么奇怪的呢？” 第三節(jié)蘇格蘭民間舞曲奏到半中間時，客廳里的坐椅被移動了，伯爵和瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜、大部分貴賓和老年人都在這里打紙牌，他們久坐之后伸伸懶腰，把皮夾和錢包放進衣袋里，一個個向大廳走去?，旣悂啞さ旅滋乩镆蚰入S同伯爵走在最前面，二人都現(xiàn)出喜悅的神色。伯爵詼諧地裝出拘禮的樣子，有點像跳芭蕾舞似的，把他那圓圓的手臂伸給瑪麗亞·德米特羅耶夫娜。他挺直身子，神采奕奕，流露出特別灑脫的機智的微笑。一跳完蘇格蘭民間舞，他就向樂師擊掌，面對第一提琴手，向那合唱隊吼叫： “謝苗！你熟悉《丹尼拉·庫波爾》么？” 這是伯爵青年時代喜歡跳的一種舞蹈。（《丹尼拉·庫波爾》其實是英吉利茲舞的一節(jié)。） “瞧我爸爸吧。”娜塔莎朝著整個大廳嚷道（根本忘記了她在和大人一同跳舞），她把長有鬈發(fā)的頭向膝蓋微微垂下，非常洪亮的笑聲響徹了廳堂。 誠然，大廳里的人都含著歡快的微笑打量那個愉快的老人，一個比他高大的顯赫的女士——瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜站在他身旁，他那手臂蜷曲成圓形，合著拍子搖晃著，舒展開雙肩，兩腳向外撇開，輕盈地踏著拍子，他圓滾滾的臉上越來越眉開眼笑，讓觀眾準備欣賞將要出現(xiàn)的場景。一當聽見歡快的、引人入勝的、與快樂的《特烈帕克》舞曲相似的《丹尼拉·庫波爾》舞曲，大廳的幾個門口驀然堆滿了家仆的笑臉，一旁是男仆，一旁是女仆，他們都出來觀看盡情作樂的老爺。 “我們的老爺！真是蒼鷹??！”保姆從一道門口高聲地說道。 伯爵跳得很棒，而且心中有數(shù)，不過他的女舞伴根本不擅長跳舞，她也不想把舞跳好。她那碩大的身段筆直地站著，把兩只強而有力的手臂低垂下去（她把女式手提包轉(zhuǎn)交給伯爵夫人），只有她那副嚴肅、但卻俊美的面孔在跳舞。伯爵的整個渾圓的身體是他外表上的特點，而越來越顯得愉快的眉開眼笑的臉龐和向上翹起的鼻孔卻是瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜的外貌特征。如果認為，伯爵跳得越來越痛快，他那出乎意料的靈活轉(zhuǎn)動和腳步從容的輕盈跳躍會使觀眾心神向往，那末，瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜在轉(zhuǎn)身或踏拍子時，肩膀一動或者手臂一卷曲，就可輕而易舉地產(chǎn)生同樣良好的印象；雖然她的身軀過分地肥胖，態(tài)度素來嚴厲，每個觀眾仍然贊賞不已。舞跳得愈益熱鬧了。他們對面的別的舞伴一刻也沒有引起觀眾的注意，而且也不介意這件事。伯爵和瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜吸引著全體的注意力。在場的人們本來就目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地望著跳舞的伴侶，可是娜塔莎卻拉拉這個人袖子，扯扯那個人的連衣裙，要大家都來看看她爸爸。跳舞暫停時，伯爵吃力地喘氣，向樂師們揮手喊叫，要他們快點奏樂。伯爵圍繞著瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜疾速地旋轉(zhuǎn)，時而把腳尖踮起，時而把腳跟跺地，越來越矯捷，越來越勇猛，終于把舞伴領到她的坐位上，他把一只腳向后磴起來，低垂淌著熱汗的頭，這樣才跳完了最后一個舞步，在洪亮的掌聲和笑聲中，尤其是在娜塔莎的哈哈大笑聲中，他用右手揮動一下，騰空畫了一個圓圈。兩個跳舞的人停步了，吃力地喘氣，用麻紗手巾揩汗。 “我們那個時代就是這樣跳舞啊，machère，”①伯爵說道。 “《丹尼拉·庫波爾》真不錯！”瑪麗亞·德米特羅耶夫娜卷起袖子，久久地、吃力地喘氣，說道。 ①法語：老大娘。
PTER XVII THE CARD-TABLES were opened, parties were made up for boston, and the count's guests settled themselves in the two drawing-rooms, the divan-room, and the library. The count, holding his cards in a fan, with some difficulty kept himself from dropping into his customary after-dinner nap, and laughed at everything. The young people, at the countess's suggestion, gathered about the clavichord and the harp. Julie was first pressed by every one to perform, and played a piece with variations on the harp. Then she joined the other young ladies in begging Natasha and Nikolay, who were noted for their musical talents, to sing something. Natasha, who was treated by every one as though she were grown-up, was visibly very proud of it, and at the same time made shy by it. “What are we to sing?” she asked. “The ‘Spring,' ” answered Nikolay. “Well, then, let's make haste. Boris, come here,” said Natasha. “But where's Sonya?” She looked round, and seeing that her friend was not in the room, she ran off to find her. After running to Sonya's room, and not finding her there, Natasha ran to the nursery: Sonya was not there either. Natasha knew that she must be on the chest in the corridor. The chest in the corridor was the scene of the woes of the younger feminine generation of the house of Rostov. Yes, Sonya was on the chest, lying face downwards, crushing her gossamer pink frock on their old nurse's dirty striped feather-bed. Her face hidden in her fingers, she was sobbing, and her little bare shoulders were heaving. Natasha's birthday face that had been festive and excited all day, changed at once; her eyes wore a fixed look, then her broad neck quivered, and the corners of her lips drooped. “Sonya! what is it? … what's the matter with you? Oo-oo-oo! …” and Natasha, letting her big mouth drop open and becoming quite ugly, wailed like a baby, not knowing why, simply because Sonya was crying. Sonya tried to lift up her head, tried to answer, but could not, and buried her face more than ever. Natasha cried, sitting on the edge of the blue feather-bed and hugging her friend. Making an effort, Sonya got up, began to dry her tears and to talk. “Nikolinka's going away in a week, his … paper … has come … he told me himself. … But still I shouldn't cry …” (she showed a sheet of paper she was holding in her hand; on it were verses written by Nikolay). “I shouldn't have cried; but you can't … no one can understand … what a soul he has.” And again she fell to weeping at the thought of how noble his soul was. “It's all right for you … I'm not envious … I love you and Boris too,” she said, controlling herself a little; “he's so nice … there are no difficulties in your way. But Nikolay's my cousin … the metropolitan chief priest himself … has to … or else it's impossible. And so, if mamma's told” (Sonya looked on the countess and addressed her as a mother), “she'll say that I'm spoiling Nikolay's career, that I have no heart, that I'm ungrateful, though really … in God's name” (she made the sign of the cross) “I love her so, and all of you, only Vera … Why is it? What have I done to her? I am so grateful to you that I would be glad to sacrifice everything for you, but I have nothing. …” Sonya could say no more, and again she buried her head in her hands and the feather-bed. Natasha tried to comfort her, but her face showed that she grasped all the gravity of her friend's trouble. “Sonya!” she said all at once, as though she had guessed the real cause of her cousin's misery, “of course Vera's been talking to you since dinner? Yes?” “Yes, these verses Nikolay wrote himself, and I copied some others; and she found them on my table, and said she should show them to mamma, and she said too that I was ungrateful, and that mamma would never allow him to marry me, but that he would marry Julie. You see how he has been with her all day … Natasha! why is it?” And again she sobbed more bitterly than ever. Natasha lifted her up, hugged her, and, smiling through her tears, began comforting her. “Sonya, don't you believe her, darling; don't believe her. Do you remember how we talked with Nikolay, all three of us together, in the divan-room, do you remember, after supper? Why, we settled how it should all be. I don't quite remember now, but do you remember, it was all right and all possible. Why, uncle Shinshin's brother is married to his first cousin, and we're only second cousins, you know. And Boris said that it's quite easily arranged. You know I told him all about it. He's so clever and so good,” said Natasha. … “Don't cry, Sonya, darling, sweet one, precious, Sonya,” and she kissed her, laughing. “Vera is spiteful; never mind her! and it will all come right and she won't tell mamma. Nikolinka will tell her himself, and he's never thought of Julie.” And she kissed her on the head. Sonya got up, and the kitten revived; its eyes sparkled, and it was ready, it seemed, to wag its tail, spring on its soft paws and begin to play with a ball, in its own natural, kittenish way. “Do you think so? Really? Truly?” she said rapidly, smoothing her frock and her hair. “Really, truly,” answered Natasha, putting back a stray coil of rough hair on her friend's head; and they both laughed. “Well, come along and sing the ‘Spring.' ” “Let's go, then.” “And do you know that fat Pierre, who was sitting opposite me, he's so funny!” Natasha said suddenly, stopping. “I am enjoying myself so,” and Natasha ran along the corridor. Brushing off the feather fluff from her frock, and thrusting the verses into her bodice next her little throat and prominent breast-bones, Sonya ran with flushed face and light, happy steps, following Natasha along the corridor to the divan-room. At the request of their guests the young people sang the quartette the “Spring,” with which every one was delighted; then Nikolay sang a song he had lately learnt. “How sweet in the moon's kindly ray,In fancy to thyself to say,That earth holds still one dear to thee!Whose thoughts, whose dreams are all of thee!That her fair fingers as of oldStray still upon the harp of gold,Making sweet, passionate harmony,That to her side doth summon thee!To-morrow and thy bliss is near!Alas! all's past! she is not here!” And he had hardly sung the last words when the young people were getting ready to dance in the big hall, and the musicians began stamping with their feet and coughing in the orchestra. Pierre was sitting in the drawing-room, where Shinshin had started a conversation with him on the political situation, as a subject likely to be of interest to any one who had just come home from abroad, though it did not in fact interest Pierre. Several other persons joined in the conversation. When the orchestra struck up, Natasha walked into the drawing-room, and going straight up to Pierre, laughing and blushing, she said, “Mamma told me to ask you to dance.” “I'm afraid of muddling the figures,” said Pierre, “but if you will be my teacher …” and he gave his fat hand to the slim little girl, putting his arm low down to reach her level. While the couples were placing themselves and the musicians were tuning up, Pierre sat down with his little partner. Natasha was perfectly happy; she was dancing with a grown-up person, with a man who had just come from abroad. She was sitting in view of every one and talking to him like a grown-up person. She had in her hand a fan, which some lady had given her to hold, and taking the most modish pose (God knows where and when she had learnt it), fanning herself and smiling all over her face, she talked to her partner. “What a girl! Just look at her, look at her!” said the old countess, crossing the big hall and pointing to Natasha. Natasha coloured and laughed. “Why, what do you mean, mamma? Why should you laugh? Is there anything strange about it?” In the middle of the third écossaise there was a clatter of chairs in the drawing-room, where the count and Marya Dmitryevna were playing, and the greater number of the more honoured guests and elderly people stretching themselves after sitting so long, put their pocket-books and purses in their pockets and came out to the door of the big hall. In front of all came Marya Dmitryevna and the count, both with radiant faces. The count gave his arm, curved into a hoop, to Marya Dmitryevna with playfully exaggerated ceremony, like a ballet-dancer. He drew himself up, and his face beamed with a peculiar, jauntily-knowing smile, and as soon as they had finished dancing the last figure of the écossaise, he clapped his hands to the orchestra, and shouted to the first violin: “Semyon! do you know ‘Daniel Cooper'?” That was the count's favourite dance that he had danced in his youth. (Daniel Cooper was the name of a figure of the anglaise.) “Look at papa!” Natasha shouted to all the room (entirely forgetting that she was dancing with a grown-up partner), and ducking down till her curly head almost touched her knees, she went off into her ringing laugh that filled the hall. Every one in the hall was, in fact, looking with a smile of delight at the gleeful old gentleman. Standing beside his majestic partner, Marya Dmitryevna, who was taller than he was, he curved his arms, swaying them in time to the music, moved his shoulders, twirled with his legs, lightly tapping with his heels, and with a broadening grin on his round face, prepared the spectators for what was to come. As soon as the orchestra played the gay, irresistible air of Daniel Cooper, somewhat like a livelier Russian trepak, all the doorways of the big hall were suddenly filled with the smiling faces of the house-serfs—men on one side, and women on the other—come to look at their master making merry. “Our little father! An eagle he is!” the old nurse said out loud at one door. The count danced well and knew that he did, but his partner could not dance at all, and did not care about dancing well. Her portly figure stood erect, with her mighty arms hanging by her side (she had handed her reticule to the countess). It was only her stern, but comely face that danced. What was expressed by the whole round person of the count, was expressed by Marya Dmitryevna in her more and more beaming countenance and puckered nose. While the count, with greater and greater expenditure of energy, enchanted the spectators by the unexpectedness of the nimble pirouettes and capers of his supple legs, Marya Dmitryevna with the slightest effort in the movement of her shoulders or curving of her arms, when they turned or marked the time with their feet, produced no less impression from the contrast, which everyone appreciated, with her portliness and her habitual severity of demeanour. The dance grew more and more animated. The vis-à-vis could not obtain one moment's attention, and did not attempt to do so. All attention was absorbed by the count and Marya Dmitryevna. Natasha pulled at the sleeve or gown of every one present, urging them to look at papa, though they never took their eyes off the dancers. In the pauses in the dance the count drew a deep breath, waved his hands and shouted to the musician to play faster. More and more quickly, more and more nimbly the count pirouetted, turning now on his toes and now on his heels, round Marya Dmitryevna. At last, twisting his lady round to her place, he executed the last steps, kicking his supple legs up behind him, and bowing his perspiring head and smiling face, with a round sweep of his right arm, amidst a thunder of applause and laughter, in which Natasha's laugh was loudest. Both partners stood still, breathing heavily, and mopping their faces with their batiste handkerchiefs. “That's how they used to dance in our day, ma chère, said the count. “Bravo, Daniel Cooper!” said Marya Dmitryevna, tucking up her sleeves and drawing a deep, prolonged breath. 第十七章 玩波士頓紙牌的桌擺開了，牌局也都湊成了，伯爵的客人們在兩個廳里就座，一間是擺有沙發(fā)的休息室，一間是圖書室。 伯爵把紙牌鋪成扇面形，好不容易才改變午睡的習慣，他對著大家露出一張笑臉。伯爵夫人誘使年輕人聚集在擊弦古銅琴和豎琴的近旁。朱莉在大家的請求下頭一個用豎琴彈奏了一首變奏短曲，她和其余的女孩一塊邀請素以音樂天賦出名的娜塔莎和尼古拉唱一首什么歌。大家像對待大人那樣對待娜塔莎，她因此顯得十分高傲，但同時有幾分膽怯。 “我們唱什么？”她問道。 “《泉水》?！蹦峁爬鸬馈?“喂，快點。鮑里斯，到這里來吧，”娜塔莎說道，“索尼婭究竟到哪里去了？” 她向四周環(huán)顧，看見她的朋友不在房里，便跑去尋找她了。 娜塔莎跑進索尼婭房里，找不到她的女友，便跑到兒童室去了，那里也沒有索尼婭的人影。娜塔莎明白，索尼婭呆在走廊里的箱籠上。走廊里的箱籠是羅斯托夫家年輕婦女們傾吐哀愁的地方。誠然，索尼婭呆在箱籠上，俯臥在保姆那張邋遢的條紋絨毛褥子上，她身上穿的粉紅色的薄紗連衣裙都給揉皺了。她用手蒙著臉，哽噎得大聲痛哭，赤**的肩膀不住地顫抖。娜塔莎整天價因為過命名日而喜形于色，這時分臉色突然變了，她的視線呆滯不動了，之后她的寬大的脖子顫抖了一下，嘴角松垂下來了。 “索尼婭，你怎么樣？……您是怎么回事？嗚——鳴—— 嗚！……” 娜塔莎咧開大嘴哭起來了，樣子變得十分難看，她像兒童似地嚎啕大哭，不知為什么，只是因為索尼婭哭泣的緣故。索尼婭想要抬起頭來，想回答她的話，可是沒法這樣辦，她把頭藏得更深了。娜塔莎哭著，在藍色的絨毛褥子上坐下，一面擁抱著女友。索尼婭鼓足一股勁，欠起身子，揩掉眼淚，開始述說起來。 “過一個禮拜尼古連卡要去打仗了，他的……公文……下達了……他親自對我說了……我并不想哭哩……”她讓娜塔莎看看她拿在手里的一張紙條，那是尼古拉寫的詩句，“我并不想哭哩，可是你沒法了解……誰也沒法了解……他的心腸多么好?！?她于是又哭起來，哭他的心腸太好。 “你覺得挺好……我不妒嫉……我愛你，也愛鮑里斯，”她聚精會神地說道，“他是個可愛的人……對你們毫無妨礙。可是尼古拉是我的表兄……有必要……總主教本人允準……即使那樣也不行。而且，若是媽媽（索尼婭認為伯爵夫人是母親，把她稱呼為母親）……她說我斷送尼古拉的錦繡前程，我沒有好心眼我忘恩負義，說實話……真的……”她在胸前劃了個十字，“我這樣愛她，也愛你們大家，唯獨薇拉……為什么？我有什么對她過不去呢？我十分感謝你們，我樂于為你們犧牲一切，但是我沒有什么可以……” 索尼婭不能再往下說了，又托著頭，埋進絨毛褥子里。娜塔莎安靜下來了，但是從她的臉色可以看出，她心里明白她朋友的苦衷是何等沉重。 “索尼婭，”她忽然說道，仿佛猜中了表姐傷心的真實原因，“薇拉在午飯后大概對你說過什么話？是嗎？” “是的，尼古拉本人寫了這些詩，我還抄了一些別的詩；她在我桌上發(fā)現(xiàn)了，還說要把它拿給媽媽看，說我忘恩負義，說媽媽決不會容許他娶我為妻，他要娶朱莉為妻。你看見，他整天價同她在一塊嗎？……娜塔莎！這是為什么？……” 她又哭了起來，顯得比原先更悲傷了。娜搭莎幫助她欠起身來，擁抱她，透過眼淚微露笑容，開始安慰她。 “索尼婭，我親愛的，不要相信她，不要相信埃你總還記得我們和尼古拉三人在擺滿沙發(fā)的休息室里說的話吧，是在晚飯后，你還記得吧？我們不是拿定了主意，把日后的事情劃算好了嗎？我已經(jīng)記不清了，可是你總還記得事事都美滿，事事都亨通。你看申申叔叔的兄弟娶他的表妹為妻，而我們不就是堂表子妹嘛，鮑里斯也說過完全可以這樣做嘛。你知道，什么事我都對他說了。他既聰明，而又善良，”娜塔莎說道……“索尼婭，我親愛的，你不要哭，索尼婭，我的心肝?！彼幻嫖撬幻姘l(fā)笑?！稗崩鎯磹?，去她的吧！事事都會好起來，她也決不會告訴她媽媽的。尼古拉倒會親口把話說出來，至于朱莉嘛，他連想也沒有想過她。” 她于是吻她的頭。索尼婭稍微抬起身子來，那只小貓也活躍起來了，一雙小眼睛閃閃發(fā)光，它好像就要搖搖尾巴，伸出四雙柔軟的腳爪霍地跳起來，又要去玩耍線團，好像它適宜于這種游戲似的。 “你是這樣想的嗎？說的是實在的話？真的？”她說道，一面飛快地弄平連衣裙和頭發(fā)。 “說實話嗎？真的嗎？”娜塔莎答道，一面給她的朋友弄平辮子下面露出來的一綹粗硬的頭發(fā)。 她們二人都笑了起來。 “喂，我們?nèi)コ度愤@首歌吧?！?“我們?nèi)グ伞！?“你可知道，坐在我對面的這個胖乎乎的皮埃爾多么滑稽可笑！”娜塔莎停步時忽然說道，“我覺得非?？旎?！” 娜塔莎于是在走廊里跑起來了。 索尼婭拍掉身上的絨毛，把詩藏在懷里靠近突出的胸骨的脖子旁邊，她兩頰通紅，邁著輕盈而快活的步子，跟在娜塔莎身后沿著走廊向擺滿沙發(fā)的休息室跑去。年輕人應客人之請唱了一首人人喜歡的四人合唱曲《泉水》之后尼古拉還唱了一首已經(jīng)背熟的歌曲： 在令人欣悅的晚上， 在皎潔月色映照下， 你想象這該是多么幸福： 有個什么人在這塵世上， 她心中暗自把你思念！ 她那秀麗的巧手 撥弄著金色的豎琴， 豎琴激越的和音 把你召喚 召喚到身邊！ 還有一兩天， 幸福的生活就要來臨…… 唉，你的朋友 活不到那么一天！ 他還沒有唱完最后一句歌詞，青年人就在大廳里準備跳舞，樂師們按照霍拉舞曲的節(jié)奏，把腳兒跺得咚咚響，這時傳來他們的咳嗽聲。 皮埃爾坐在客廳里，申申和這個從外國歸來的皮埃爾談論起使他覺得索然無味的政治范疇的事情，還有其他幾個人也和他們攀談起來，當樂隊開始奏樂時，娜塔莎步入客廳，她向皮埃爾身邊徑直地走去，兩臉通紅，含笑地說道：“媽媽吩咐我請您去跳舞?！?“我怕會搞亂了舞步，”皮埃爾說道，“不過，假如您愿意當我的老師……” 于是他低低地垂下他那只肥胖的手，遞給苗條的少女。 當一對對男女拉開距離站著、樂師正在調(diào)音律時，皮埃爾和他的小舞伴一同坐下來。娜塔莎覺得非常幸福：她和國外回來的大人跳過舞了。她在大家眼前坐著，像大人那樣和他交談。她手里拿著一把折扇，一位小姐讓她拿去扇扇的。她裝出一副地道的交際花的姿態(tài)（天知道她是何時何地學到的本領），她扇扇子，隔著折扇露出微笑，和她的舞伴交談。 “她是啥模樣？她是啥模樣？你們看吧，你們看吧?！崩喜舴蛉俗哌^大廳，用手指著娜塔莎，說道。 娜塔莎兩頰通紅，笑了起來。 “媽媽，怎么啦？您何苦呢？這有什么奇怪的呢？” 第三節(jié)蘇格蘭民間舞曲奏到半中間時，客廳里的坐椅被移動了，伯爵和瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜、大部分貴賓和老年人都在這里打紙牌，他們久坐之后伸伸懶腰，把皮夾和錢包放進衣袋里，一個個向大廳走去?，旣悂啞さ旅滋乩镆蚰入S同伯爵走在最前面，二人都現(xiàn)出喜悅的神色。伯爵詼諧地裝出拘禮的樣子，有點像跳芭蕾舞似的，把他那圓圓的手臂伸給瑪麗亞·德米特羅耶夫娜。他挺直身子，神采奕奕，流露出特別灑脫的機智的微笑。一跳完蘇格蘭民間舞，他就向樂師擊掌，面對第一提琴手，向那合唱隊吼叫： “謝苗！你熟悉《丹尼拉·庫波爾》么？” 這是伯爵青年時代喜歡跳的一種舞蹈。（《丹尼拉·庫波爾》其實是英吉利茲舞的一節(jié)。） “瞧我爸爸吧。”娜塔莎朝著整個大廳嚷道（根本忘記了她在和大人一同跳舞），她把長有鬈發(fā)的頭向膝蓋微微垂下，非常洪亮的笑聲響徹了廳堂。 誠然，大廳里的人都含著歡快的微笑打量那個愉快的老人，一個比他高大的顯赫的女士——瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜站在他身旁，他那手臂蜷曲成圓形，合著拍子搖晃著，舒展開雙肩，兩腳向外撇開，輕盈地踏著拍子，他圓滾滾的臉上越來越眉開眼笑，讓觀眾準備欣賞將要出現(xiàn)的場景。一當聽見歡快的、引人入勝的、與快樂的《特烈帕克》舞曲相似的《丹尼拉·庫波爾》舞曲，大廳的幾個門口驀然堆滿了家仆的笑臉，一旁是男仆，一旁是女仆，他們都出來觀看盡情作樂的老爺。 “我們的老爺！真是蒼鷹??！”保姆從一道門口高聲地說道。 伯爵跳得很棒，而且心中有數(shù)，不過他的女舞伴根本不擅長跳舞，她也不想把舞跳好。她那碩大的身段筆直地站著，把兩只強而有力的手臂低垂下去（她把女式手提包轉(zhuǎn)交給伯爵夫人），只有她那副嚴肅、但卻俊美的面孔在跳舞。伯爵的整個渾圓的身體是他外表上的特點，而越來越顯得愉快的眉開眼笑的臉龐和向上翹起的鼻孔卻是瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜的外貌特征。如果認為，伯爵跳得越來越痛快，他那出乎意料的靈活轉(zhuǎn)動和腳步從容的輕盈跳躍會使觀眾心神向往，那末，瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜在轉(zhuǎn)身或踏拍子時，肩膀一動或者手臂一卷曲，就可輕而易舉地產(chǎn)生同樣良好的印象；雖然她的身軀過分地肥胖，態(tài)度素來嚴厲，每個觀眾仍然贊賞不已。舞跳得愈益熱鬧了。他們對面的別的舞伴一刻也沒有引起觀眾的注意，而且也不介意這件事。伯爵和瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜吸引著全體的注意力。在場的人們本來就目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地望著跳舞的伴侶，可是娜塔莎卻拉拉這個人袖子，扯扯那個人的連衣裙，要大家都來看看她爸爸。跳舞暫停時，伯爵吃力地喘氣，向樂師們揮手喊叫，要他們快點奏樂。伯爵圍繞著瑪麗亞·德米特里耶夫娜疾速地旋轉(zhuǎn)，時而把腳尖踮起，時而把腳跟跺地，越來越矯捷，越來越勇猛，終于把舞伴領到她的坐位上，他把一只腳向后磴起來，低垂淌著熱汗的頭，這樣才跳完了最后一個舞步，在洪亮的掌聲和笑聲中，尤其是在娜塔莎的哈哈大笑聲中，他用右手揮動一下，騰空畫了一個圓圈。兩個跳舞的人停步了，吃力地喘氣，用麻紗手巾揩汗。 “我們那個時代就是這樣跳舞啊，machère，”①伯爵說道。 “《丹尼拉·庫波爾》真不錯！”瑪麗亞·德米特羅耶夫娜卷起袖子，久久地、吃力地喘氣，說道。 ①法語：老大娘。