[[英语园地]] 继续上《战争与和平》双语版

第十章

英文 


娜塔莎步出客厅，奔驰而去，只奔至花房。她在这个房间里停下来了，等候鲍里斯走出门来。她已经不耐烦了。他没有马上走来，她顿了一下脚，快要放声大哭，这时听到了年轻人的不疾速亦不迟缓的文质彬彬的步履声。娜塔莎飞快地窜到花桶中间，躲匿起来了。

鲍里斯在房间中央停步了，环顾了一遭，掸掉制服袖子上的尘屑，走到镜台前，仔细瞧瞧他那俊美的面孔。娜塔莎没有出声，从她躲匿的地方向外观望，等待着，看他怎样办。他在镜台前伫立了片刻，微微一笑，就向大门口走去。娜塔莎想喊他一声，随即改变了念头。

“让他去找吧，”她对自己说道。鲍里斯刚刚走出来，索尼娅涨红了脸，透过泪水愤恨地低声细语，从另一道门走了出来。娜塔莎忍住了，没有起步向她身边跑去，还留在躲匿的地方，宛如戴上一顶隐身帽，不时地窥视人世间的动静。她正在享受一种特别新鲜的乐趣。索尼娅用耳语说着什么话，又回头望望客厅门。尼古拉从门口走出来了。

“索尼娅，你怎么啦？哪能这样呢？”尼古拉说道，向她身边跑来了。

“没有什么，没有什么，丢下我别管吧！”索尼娅嚎啕大哭起来。

“不，我知道干嘛。”

“哦，您知道，好得很，您上她那儿去吧。”

“索——尼娅！有句话要跟你说！哪能凭瞎想这样折磨我，这样折磨你自己！”尼古拉说道，一把抓住她的手。

索尼娅不去挣脱自己的手，停止哭泣了。

娜塔莎屏住气息，一动不动地从她躲匿的地方用那闪闪发亮的眼睛向外张望。“此刻会出什么事呢？”她思忖道。

“索尼娅！我所需要的不是整个世界！在我心目中唯有你才是一切，”尼古拉说道，“我向你证明我说的话。”

“我不喜欢你这样说话。”

“哦，我再也不说了，嗯，索尼娅，宽恕我吧！”他把她拖到自己身边，吻了吻她。

“嗬，多么好啊！”娜塔莎心里想道，索尼娅和尼古拉从房里走出以后，她跟随着他们，把鲍里斯喊到自己身边来。

“鲍里斯，您到这里来，”她现出一副意味深长的狡黠的神态说道，“我有一件事要说给您听。到这里来吧，到这里来吧。”她说道，把他领到花房里她躲匿过的花桶之间。鲍里斯微露笑容，跟在她后面走去。

“这究竟是件什么事呢？”他发问。

她困窘不安，向四下打量一番，看见她那被扔在花桶上的洋娃娃，把它拿起来。

“吻吻这个洋娃娃吧。”她说道。

鲍里斯用关切而温和的目光望着她那兴奋的脸盘，一声也不回答。

“您不愿意吗？喂，就到这儿来吧，”她说道，并向花丛纵深走去，扔掉了那个洋娃娃，“靠近点，靠近点吧！”她轻言细语地说道。她双手抓住军官的袖口，在她那涨红了的脸上可以望见激动和恐惧的神色。

“您愿意吻吻我吗？”她低声细语，几乎听不清楚，皱着眉头向他瞧着，脸上露出微笑，激动得几乎要哭出声来。

鲍里斯面红耳赤。

“您多么可笑！”他说道，向她弯下腰来，面红得更加厉害，但却没有采取任何行动，只是等待好机会。

她突然跳到花桶上，身段就显得比他高了，她用自己的双手把他抱住了，于是她那纤细的裸露的手臂在他的颈项上方弯成弧形了，她仰起头来，把头发甩在后面，正好在他的唇上吻了一下。

她经过花钵中间窜到花丛的另一边，低垂着头，停步不前了。

“娜塔莎，”他说道，“您知道我是爱您的，可是……”

“您爱上我了吗？”娜塔莎打断了他的话。

“是的，我爱上您了，但是您瞧，真是的，我们以后不要像刚才那样冒冒失失……还有四个年头……那时候我会向您求婚。”

娜塔莎思忖了一下。

“十三岁，十四岁，十五岁，十六岁……”她说道，弯屈着她那纤细的指头算算，“很好！那么成了定局罗？”

欣喜和安定的微笑使她兴奋的面部神采奕奕。

“成定局了！”鲍里斯说道。

“永远吗？”小女孩说道，“一直到寿终正寝？”

她于是挽着他的手臂，露出幸运的神色，静悄悄地和他并排走到摆满沙发的休息室里去。

CHAPTER XI

Chinese


THE COUNTESS was so tired from seeing visitors that she gave orders that she would see no one else, and the doorkeeper was told to be sure and invite to dinner every one who should call with congratulations. The countess was longing for a tête-à-tête talk with the friend of her childhood, Anna Mihalovna, whom she had not seen properly since she had arrived from Petersburg. Anna Mihalovna, with her tear-worn and amiable face, moved closer up to the countess's easy-chair.

“With you I will be perfectly open,” said Anna Mihalovna. “We haven't many old friends left. That's how it is I value your friendship so.”

Anna Mihalovna looked at Vera and stopped. The countess pressed her friend's hand.

“Vera,” said the countess to her eldest daughter, unmistakably not her favourite, “how is it you have no notion about anything? Don't you feel that you're not wanted here? Go to your sister or …”

The handsome young countess smiled scornfully, apparently not in the least mortified.

“If you had told me, mamma, I would have gone away long ago,” she said, and went off towards her own room. But passing through the divan-room, she noticed two couples sitting symmetrically in the two windows. She stopped and smiled contemptuously at them. Sonya was sitting close beside Nikolay, who was copying out some verses for her, the first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were sitting in the other window, and were silent when Vera came in. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces.

It was an amusing and touching sight to see these little girls in love, but the sight of them did not apparently arouse any agreeable feeling in Vera. “How often have I asked you,” she said, “not to take my things? You have a room of your own.” She took the inkstand away from Nikolay.

“One minute, one minute,” he said, dipping his pen in.

“You always manage to do things just at the wrong moment,” said Vera. “First you burst into the drawing-room so that every one was ashamed of you.” Although or just because what she said was perfectly true, no one answered; all the four simply looked at one another. She lingered in the room with the inkstand in her hand. “And what sort of secrets can you have at your age, Natasha and Boris, and you two!—it's all simply silly nonsense!”

“Well, what has it to do with you, Vera?” Natasha said in defence, speaking very gently. She was evidently more good-humoured and affectionate than usual that day with every one.

“It's very silly,” said Vera; “I am ashamed of you. What sort of secret…”

“Every one has secrets. We don't interfere with you and Berg,” said Natasha, getting warmer.

“I should think you didn't interfere,” said Vera, “because there could be no harm in any conduct of mine. But I shall tell mamma how you behave with Boris.”

“Natalya Ilyinishna behaves very well to me,” said Boris. “I have nothing to complain of,” he said.

“Leave off, Boris, you're such a diplomatist” (the world diplomatist was much in use among the children in the special sense they attached to the word). “It's tiresome, really,” said Natasha, in a mortified and shaking voice; “why does she set upon me?”

“You'll never understand it,” she said, addressing Vera, “because you've never cared for any one; you've no heart; you're simply Madame de Genlis” (this nickname, considered most offensive, had been given to Vera by Nikolay), “and your greatest delight is in getting other people into trouble. You can flirt with Berg, as much as you like,” she said quickly.

“Well, I'm not likely to run after a young man before visitors.…”

“Well, she has gained her object!” Nikolay put in; “she has said something nasty to every one, and upset everybody. Let's go into the nursery.”

All four rose, like a flock of scared birds, and went out of the room.

“You've said nasty things to me, and I said nothing to any one,” said Vera.

“Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!” cried laughing voices through the door.

The handsome girl who produced such an irritating and unpleasant effect on every one smiled; and, obviously unaffected by what had been said to her, she went up to the looking-glass and put her scarf and her hair tidy. Looking at her handsome face, she seemed to become colder and more composed than ever.

In the drawing-room the conversation was still going on.

“Ah, chère,” said the countess, “in my life, too, everything is not rose-coloured. Do you suppose I don't see that, in the way we are going on, our fortune can't last long? And it's all the club and his good-nature. When we're in the country we have no rest from it,—it's nothing but theatricals, hunting parties, and God knows what. But we won't talk of me. Come, tell me how you managed it all. I often wonder at you, Annette, the way you go racing off alone, at your age, to Moscow, and to Petersburg, to all the ministers, and all the great people, and know how to get round them all too. I admire you, really! Well, how was it arranged? Why, I could never do it.”

“Ah, my dear!” answered Princess Anna Mihalovna, “God grant that you never know what it is to be left a widow, with no one to support you, and a son whom you love to distraction. One learns how to do anything,” she said with some pride. “My lawsuit trained me to it. If I want to see one of these great people, I write a note: ‘Princess so-and-so wishes to see so-and-so,' and I go myself in a hired cab two or three times—four, if need be—till I get what I want. I don't mind what they think of me.”

“Well, tell me, then, whom did you interview for Borinka?” asked the countess. “Here's your boy an officer in the Guards, while my Nikolinka's going as an ensign. There's no one to manage things for him. Whose help did you ask?”

“Prince Vassily's. He was so kind. Agreed to do everything immediately; put the case before the Emperor,” said Princess Anna Mihalovna enthusiastically, entirely forgetting all the humiliation she had been through to attain her object.

“And how is he? beginning to get old, Prince Vassily?” inquired the countess. “I have never seen him since our theatricals at the Rumyantsovs', and I dare say he has forgotten me. He paid me attentions,” the countess recalled with a smile.

“He's just the same,” answered Anna Mihalovna, “so affable, brimming over. Greatness has not turned his head. ‘I am sorry I can do so little for you, Princess,' he said to me; ‘I'm at your command.' Yes, he's a splendid man, and very good to his relatives. But you know, Natalie, my love for my boy. I don't know what I would not do to make him happy. And my means are so scanty,” pursued Anna Mihalovna, dropping her voice mournfully, “that now I am in a most awful position. My wretched lawsuit is eating up all I have, and making no progress. I have not, can you conceive it, literally, not sixpence in the world, and I don't know how to get Boris's equipment.” She took out her handkerchief and shed tears. “I must have five hundred roubles, and I have only a twenty-five rouble note. I'm in such a position.… My one hope now is in Prince Kirill Vladimirovitch Bezuhov. If he will not come to the help of his godson—you know he is Boris's godfather—and allow him something for his maintenance, all my efforts will have been in vain; I shall have nothing to get his equipment with.”

The countess deliberated in tearful silence.

“I often think—perhaps it's a sinful thought,” said the princess—“but I often think: here is Prince Kirill Vladimirovitch Bezuhov living all alone … that immense fortune … and what is he living for? Life is a burden to him, while Boris is only just beginning life.”

“He will be sure to leave something to Boris,” said the countess.

“God knows, chère amie! These wealthy grand people are such egoists. But still I'm going to see him at once with Boris, and I will tell him plainly the state of the case. People may think what they choose of me, I really don't care, when my son's fate depends on it.” The princess got up. “It's now two o'clock, and you dine at four. I shall have time to drive there and back.”

And with the air of a Petersburg lady, used to business, and knowing how to make use of every moment, Anna Mihalovna sent for her son, and with him went out into the hall.

“Good-bye, my dear,” she said to the countess, who accompanied her to the door. “Wish me good-luck,” she added in a whisper unheard by her son.

“You're going to Prince Kirill Vladimirovich's, ma chère?” said the count, coming out of the dining-room into the hall. “If he's better, invite Pierre to dine with us. He has been here; used to dance with the children. Be sure you invite him, ma chère. Now do come and look how Taras has surpassed himself to-day. He says Count Orlov never had such a dinner as we're going to have to-day.”

第十一章

英文 


会客的事情使伯爵夫人疲惫不堪，她吩咐不再招待任何人，又指示门房，只邀请一些务须登门饮宴的贺客。伯爵夫人想和自己童年时代的女友——名叫安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜的公爵夫人单独晤谈，自从她自彼得堡归来，伯爵夫人还没有好好地探查她啦。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜露出一幅泪痕斑斑但却令人心欢的面孔，把身子移向伯爵夫人的安乐椅近旁。

“我对你直言不讳，”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜说道，“我们这些老朋友剩存的已经很少了！因此，我十分珍惜你的友情。”

安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜望了望薇拉，便停住了。伯爵夫人握了握朋友的手。

“薇拉，”伯爵夫人把脸转向显然不受宠爱的长女，说道，“您怎么一点不明事理啊？难道你不觉得，你在这里是个多余的人吗？到几个妹妹那里去吧，或者……”

貌美的薇拉鄙夷地微露笑容，显然她一点也不感到屈辱。

“妈妈，假如您老早对我说了这番话，我老早就会离开您了。”她说了这句话，便向自己房里去了。

但是，当她路过摆满沙发的休息室时，她发觉休息室里有两对情人在两扇窗户近侧对称地坐着。她停步了，鄙视地微微一笑。索尼娅坐在尼古拉近侧，他把他头次创作的诗句誊写给她看。鲍里斯和娜塔莎坐在另一扇窗户旁边，当薇拉走进来时，他们都默不作声了。索尼娅和娜塔莎带着愧悔、但却幸福的神态，瞥了薇拉一眼。

看见这些热恋的小姑娘，真令人高兴和感动。但是她们的样子在薇拉身上显然没有引起愉快的感觉。

“我请求你们多少次了，”她说道，“不要拿走我的东西，你们都有你们自己的房间。”她拿起尼古拉身边的墨水瓶。

“我马上给你，马上给你。”他说道，把笔尖蘸上墨水了。

“你们向来不善于适合时宜地做事情，”薇拉说道，“方才你们跑到客厅里来，真教大家替你们害臊。”

虽然她说的话完全合情合理，莫非正因为如此，所以没有人回答，这四个人只是互使眼色而已。她手里拿着墨水瓶迟迟未起步，在房里滞留。

“你们这样的年纪，会有什么秘密，娜塔莎和鲍里斯之间，你们二人之间会有什么秘密，会是一些愚蠢事。”

“嘿，薇拉，这与你何干。”娜塔莎用低沉的嗓音作辩护。

这天她对大家显然比平常更慈善，更温和。

“很愚蠢，”薇拉说道，“我替你们害臊，这是什么秘密呢？

……”

“每个人都有自己的秘密。我们不招惹你和贝格就是了。”

娜塔莎急躁地说……

“我认为，你们不会触犯人，”薇拉说道，“因为我从来没有什么不轨的行为。看吧，你怎样对待鲍里斯，我准会告诉妈妈。”

“娜塔莉娅·伊利尼什娜待我非常好，”鲍里斯说道，“我不会诉怨的。”他说道。

“鲍里斯，请您不要管，您是这么一个外交家（外交家这个词在儿童中间广为流传，他们使这个词具有一种特殊意义），真够乏味，”娜塔莎用委屈的颤栗的嗓音说道，“她干嘛跟着我，纠缠得没完没了？这一点你永远也不会明白，”她把脸转向薇拉说道，“因为你从来没有爱过任何人；你简直没有心肠，你只是个ma－damedeGenlis①（尼古拉给薇拉起的侮辱人的绰号），你主要的乐趣就是给他人制造不愉快的事情。你去向贝格献媚吧，你想怎样献媚就怎样献媚。”她急匆匆地说道。

①法语：让莉夫人。



“是的，我也许不会在客人们面前去追逐一个年轻人……”

“得啦，你达到目的了，”尼古拉插话了，“在大家面前说了许多讨厌的话，真使大家扫兴了。我们到儿童室去吧。”

这四个人有如一群惊弓之鸟都站立起来，从房里走出去了。

“人家对我说了许多讨厌的话，可我没有对谁说什么。”薇拉说道。

“madamedeGenlis！madamedeGenlis！”有人从门后传出一阵笑语。

貌美的薇拉给了大家一种令人激动的不愉快的印象，但她却微微一笑；大家说的话显然对她不发生作用，她向镜台前走去。把围巾和头发弄平，一面注视着她那美丽的面孔，她显然变得更冷漠，更安详了。

客厅中的谈话持续下去了。

“啊！亲爱的，”伯爵夫人说道，“在我的生活上toutn'estpasrose，我难道看不见吗，dutrain，quenousallons①，我们的财富不能长久地维系下去！这个俱乐部和他的慈善，全都碍了事。我们住在乡下，我们难道会静心养性吗？戏院呀，狩猎呀，天知道还有什么花样。至于我的情形，又有什么可谈的呢？哦，这一切一切你究竟是怎样安排的啊？安内特，我对你的境况常常感到惊讶，你这个年纪，怎么一个人乘坐马车，去莫斯科，去彼得堡，到各位部长那里去，到各个贵族那里去，你善于应酬各种人，真令我感到惊奇！嗬，这方面的事情究竟是怎样妥善安排的啊？这方面的事情我一点也不内行。”

①法语：依照我们这种生活方式，并非幸福盈门，尽如人意。



“啊，我的心肝！”名叫安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜的公爵夫人答道，“但愿你不要知道，当一个寡妇，无依无靠，还有一个你所溺爱的儿子，生活多么艰苦，什么事都得学会，”她带着有点傲气的神态继续说道，“这场诉讼让我学了乖。如果我要会见某位显要达官，我就写一封便函：‘Princesseunetelle①欲晋谒某人，'我于是外出走一趟。我坐上马车亲自造访，哪怕走两趟也好，走三趟、四趟也好，直至达到目的为止。无论别人对我持有什么看法，对我来说，横直一样。”

“喂，你怎样替鲍里斯求情的呢？”伯爵夫人问道，“要知道，你的儿子已经是近卫军军官了，而尼古拉才当上士官生。

没有人为他斡旋哩。你向谁求过情呢？”

“我向瓦西里公爵求过情。他真是殷勤待人。现在他什么都答应了，并且禀告了国王。”名叫安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜的公爵夫人异常高兴地说道，完全忘记了她为达到目的而遭受的凌辱。

“瓦西里公爵怎么样？变老了吧？”伯爵夫人问道，“自从我们在鲁缅采夫家演了那幕闹剧以后，我就没有见过他。我想，他已经忘记我了。Ilmefaisaitlacour，”②伯爵夫人面露微笑地想起这件事。

“他还是那个样子，”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜答道，“他很殷勤地待人，满口说的是奉承讨好的话。Lesgrandeursneluiontpastournélatêtedutout③。‘亲爱的公爵夫人，我感到遗憾的是，我能替您做的事太少了，'他对我说道，‘如有事就请吩咐吧。'不过，他是个享有荣誉的人，是个挺好的亲戚，娜塔莎，可你总知道，我疼爱自己的儿子。我不知道。为了他的幸福我有什么事不能做到啊。我的境况糟糕透了，”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜降低嗓门心情忧悒地继续说下去，“我的情况糟糕透了，使我现在处于最难堪的地位。我那倒霉的讼案把我拥有的一切吞噬掉了，而且毫无进展。你可以想象我没有金钱，àlalettre④竟然没有十戈比的小银币，我不知道要用什么给鲍里斯置备军装，”她掏出一条手绢，哭起来了，“我现在需要五百卢布，而我身边只有一张二十五卢布的纸币。我处于这种境地……现在我唯一的希望寄托在基里尔弗拉基米罗维奇·别祖霍夫伯爵身上。如果他不愿意支援他的教子——要知道他曾给鲍里斯施洗礼——，不愿意发给他一笔薪金，那么，我的奔走斡旋势必付诸东流；我将用什么给他置备军装啊。”

①法语：某公爵夫人。

②法语：他轻浮地追求过我。

③法语：荣耀的地位没有使他变样子。

④法语：有时候。



伯爵夫人两眼噙着泪水，沉默地想着什么事。

“我常常想到，这也许就是罪孽，”那公爵夫人说道，“我常常想到，基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇·别祖霍夫伯爵孤单地生活……他有这么多产业……他的生活目的何在？对他来说，生命是沉重的负担，可是鲍里斯才刚刚开始生活。”

“他想必会给鲍里斯留下什么财产。”伯爵夫人说道。

“chèreamie①，天晓得！这些富翁和显贵都是利己主义者。但是我还是即刻偕同鲍里斯到他那里去，坦率地对他说明，究竟是怎么一回事。人家对我抱有什么看法，请听便吧，说实话，只要儿子的命运有赖于此事，我一切都不在乎，”公爵夫人站立起来，“现在是两点钟，四点钟你们吃午餐。我出去走走还来得及哩。”

①法语：亲爱的朋友。



安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜具有精明能干、善于利用时间的彼得堡贵族夫人的作风，她派人去把儿子喊来，和他一同到接待室去。

“我的心肝，再会吧，”她对送她到门口的伯爵夫人说道，“请你祝我成功吧。”她背着儿子轻言细语地补充说一句。

“machère，您到基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇伯爵那里去吗？”伯爵从餐厅出来，也到接待室去时，说道，“如果皮埃尔身体好一些，请他上我家里来吃午饭。要知道，他时常到我这里来，和孩子们一块跳舞。machère，务必要请他。哦，让我们看看，塔拉斯今天怎样大显神通啊。他说，奥尔洛夫伯爵家里未曾举办像我们今天这样的午宴哩。”

CHAPTER XII

Chinese


“Mon cher Boris,” said Anna Mihalovna as the Countess Rostov's carriage drove along the street strewn with straw and into the wide courtyard of Count Kirill Vladimirovitch Bezuhov's house. “Mon cher Boris,” said the mother, putting her hand out from under her old mantle, and laying it on her son's hand with a timid, caressing movement, “be nice, be attentive. Count Kirill Vladimirovitch is after all your godfather, and your future depends on him. Remember that, mon cher, be charming, as you know so well how to be.…”

“If I knew anything would come of it but humiliation,” her son answered coldly. “But I have promised, and I will do it for your sake.”

Although the carriage was standing at the entrance, the hall-porter, scanning the mother and son (they had not sent in their names, but had walked straight in through the glass doors between two rows of statues in niches), and looking significantly at the old mantle, inquired whom they wanted, the princesses or the count; and hearing that they wanted to see the count, said that his excellency was worse to-day, and his excellency could see no one.

“We may as well go away,” the son said in French.

“Mon ami!” said the mother in a voice of entreaty, again touching her son's hand, as though the contact might soothe or rouse him. Boris said no more, but without taking off his overcoat, looked inquiringly at his mother.

“My good man,” Anna Mihalovna said ingratiatingly, addressing the hall-porter, “I know that Count Kirill Vladimirovitch is very ill … that is why I am here … I am a relation … I shall not disturb him, my good man … I need only see Prince Vassily Sergyevitch; he's staying here, I know. Announce us, please.”

The hall-porter sullenly pulled the bell-rope that rang upstairs and turned away.

“Princess Drubetskoy to see Prince Vassily Sergyevitch,” he called to a footman in stockings, slippers and a frockcoat, who ran down from above, and looked down from the turn in the staircase.

The mother straightened out the folds of her dyed silk gown, looked at herself in the full-length Venetian looking-glass on the wall, and boldly walked up on the stair carpet in her shabby, shapeless shoes.

“My dear, you promised me,” she turned again to her son, rousing him by a touch on his arm. The son, with his eyes on the door, walked submissively after her.

They went into a large room, from which a door led to the apartments that had been assigned to Prince Vassily.

At the moment when the mother and son reached the middle of the room and were about to ask their way of an old footman, who had darted out at their entrance, the bronze handle of one of the doors turned, and Prince Vassily, dressed in a house jacket of velvet, with one star, came out, accompanying a handsome, black-haired man. This man was the celebrated Petersburg doctor, Lorrain.

“It is positive, then?” said the Prince.

“Prince, errare est humanum,” answered the doctor, lisping, and pronouncing the Latin words with a French accent.

“Very well, very well …”

Perceiving Anna Mihalovna and her son, Prince Vassily dismissed the doctor with a bow, and in silence, with an air of inquiry, advanced to meet them. The son noticed how an expression of intense grief came at once into his mother's eyes, and he smiled slightly.

“Yes, in what distressing circumstances we were destined to meet again, prince.… Tell me how is our dear patient?” she said, apparently not observing the frigid, offensive glance that was fixed on her. Prince Vassily stared at her, then at Boris with a look of inquiry that amounted to perplexity. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vassily, without acknowledging his bow, turned away to Anna Mihalovna, and to her question he replied by a movement of the head and lips, indicative of the worst fears for the patient.

“Is it possible?” cried Anna Mihalovna. “Ah, this is terrible! It is dreadful to think … This is my son,” she added, indicating Boris. “He wanted to thank you in person.”

Boris once more made a polite bow.

“Believe me, prince, a mother's heart will never forget what you have done for us.”

“I am glad I have been able to do you any service, my dear Anna Mihalovna,” said Prince Vassily, pulling his lace frill straight, and in voice and manner manifesting here in Moscow, before Anna Mihalovna, who was under obligation to him, an even greater sense of his own dignity than in Petersburg at Anna Pavlovna's soirée.

“Try to do your duty in the service, and to be worthy of it.” he added, turning severely to him. “I am glad … you are here on leave?” he asked in his expressionless voice.

“I am awaiting orders, your excellency, to join my new regiment,” answered Boris, showing no sign either of resentment at the prince's abrupt manner, nor of desire to get into conversation, but speaking with such respectful composure that the prince looked at him attentively.

“You are living with your mother?”

“I am living at Countess Rostov's,” said Boris, again adding: “your excellency.”

“The Ilya Rostov, who married Natalie Shinshin,” said Anna Mihalovna.

“I know, I know,” said Prince Vassily in his monotonous voice. “I have never been able to understand how Natalie Shinshin could make up her mind to marry that unlicked bear. A completely stupid and ridiculous person. And a gambler too, I am told.”

“But a very worthy man, prince,” observed Anna Mihalovna, with a pathetic smile, as though she too recognised that Count Rostov deserved this criticism, but begged him not to be too hard on the poor old fellow. “What do the doctors say?” asked the princess, after a brief pause, and again the expression of deep distress reappeared on her tear-worn face.

“There is little hope,” said the prince.

“And, I was so longing to thank uncle once more for all his kindness to me and to Boris. He is his godson,” she added in a tone that suggested that Prince Vassily would be highly delighted to hear this fact.

Prince Vassily pondered and frowned. Anna Mihalovna saw he was afraid of finding in her a rival with claims on Count Bezuhov's will. She hastened to reassure him. “If it were not for my genuine love and devotion for uncle,” she said, uttering the last word with peculiar assurance and carelessness, “I know his character,—generous, upright; but with only the princesses about him.… They are young.…” She bent her head and added in a whisper: “Has he performed his last duties, prince? How priceless are these last moments! He is as bad as he could be, it seems; it is absolutely necessary to prepare him, if he is so ill. We women, prince,” she smiled tenderly, “always know how to say these things. I absolutely must see him. Hard as it will be for me, I am used to suffering.”

The prince evidently understood, and understood, too, as he had at Anna Pavlovna's, that it was no easy task to get rid of Anna Mihalovna.

“Would not this interview be trying for him, chère Anna Mihalovna?” he said. “Let us wait till the evening; the doctors have predicted a crisis.”

“But waiting's out of the question, prince, at such a moment. Think, it is a question of saving his soul. Ah! how terrible, the duties of a Christian.…”

The door from the inner rooms opened, and one of the count's nieces entered with a cold and forbidding face, and a long waist strikingly out of proportion with the shortness of her legs.

Prince Vassily turned to her. “Well, how is he?”

“Still the same. What can you expect with this noise? …” said the princess, scanning Anna Mihalovna, as a stranger.

“Ah, dear, I did not recognise you,” said Anna Mihalovna, with a delighted smile, and she ambled lightly up to the count's niece. “I have just come, and I am at your service to help in nursing my uncle. I imagine what you have been suffering,” she added, sympathetically turning her eyes up.

The princess made no reply, she did not even smile, but walked straight away. Anna Mihalovna took off her gloves, and entrenched herself as it were in an armchair, inviting Prince Vassily to sit down beside her.

“Boris!” she said to her son, and she smiled at him, “I am going in to the count, to poor uncle, and you can go to Pierre, mon ami, meanwhile, and don't forget to give him the Rostovs' invitation. They ask him to dinner. I suppose he won't go?” she said to the prince.

“On the contrary,” said the prince, visibly cast down. “I should be very glad if you would take that young man off my hands.… He sticks on here. The count has not once asked for him.”

He shrugged his shoulders. A footman conducted the youth downstairs and up another staircase to the apartments of Pyotr Kirillovitch.

第十二章

英文 


“MoncherBoris，”①当他们搭乘名叫罗斯托娃的伯爵夫人的四轮轿式马车经过铺有麦秆的街道，驶入基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇·别祖霍夫家的大庭院时，名列安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜的公爵夫人对儿子说道，“moncherBoris，”母亲从旧式女外套下面伸出手来，胆怯地、温存地把手搁在儿子手上说道，“待人要殷勤、体贴。基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇毕竟是你的教父，你未来的命运以他为转移。moncher，你要记住，要和蔼可爱，你会这样做……”

①法语：我亲爱的鲍里斯。


“如果我知道，除开屈辱而外，这能得到什么结果……，”儿子冷漠地答道，“但是我向您许了愿，我要为您而效劳。”

虽然有一辆什么人的四轮轿式马车停在台阶前面，但是门房还是把偕同儿子的母亲仔细观察一番（他们并没有通报姓氏，径直地走进两排壁龛雕像之间的玻璃穿堂里），意味深长地望了望她那身旧式的女外衣，问他们访问何人，是访问公爵小姐，还是访问伯爵，得知访问伯爵之后，便说大人今天病情更严重，不接见任何人。

“我们可以走啦。”儿子说了一句法国话。

“monami！”①母亲用央求的嗓音说道，又用手碰碰儿子的手臂，仿佛这一触动就可以使他平静，或者使他兴奋似的。

鲍里斯默不作声，没有脱下军大衣，他用疑问的目光望着母亲。

①法语：我的朋友。


“老兄，”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜把脸转向门房，用温柔的嗓音说道，“我知道，基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇伯爵的病情严重，……因此我才来探视……我是他的亲戚……老兄，我不会惊动他……不过，我必须见见瓦西里·谢尔盖耶维奇公爵，他不是呆在这里么。请通报一声。”

门房忧郁地拉了一下通到楼上的门铃的引线，就扭过脸去。

“名叫德鲁别茨卡娅的公爵夫人求见瓦西里·谢尔盖耶维奇公爵，”他向那走下楼来、从楼梯凸缘下面向外张望的穿着长袜、矮靿皮靴和燕尾服的堂倌喊道。

母亲把那染过的丝绸连衣裙的裙褶弄匀整，照了照嵌在墙上的纯正的威尼斯穿衣镜。她脚上穿着一双矮靿破皮靴，沿着楼梯地毯，走上楼去了。

“moncher，vousm'avezpromis，”①她又向儿子转过脸去说道，她用手碰碰儿子，要他振作起来。

儿子低垂着眼睛，不慌不忙地跟在她后面。

他们走进了大厅，厅里有扇门通往瓦西里公爵的内室。

当母亲随带儿子走到屋子中间，正想向那个看见他们走进来便飞快起身的老堂倌问路的时候，一扇门的青铜拉手转动了，瓦西里公爵走出门来，他按照家常的穿戴方式，披上一件天鹅绒面的皮袄，只佩戴一枚金星勋章，正在送走一个头发黝黑的美男子。这个美男子是大名鼎鼎的彼得堡的罗兰大夫。

“C'estdoncpositif？”②公爵说道。

“Monprince，‘Errarehummanumest'，mais…③大夫答道，弹动小舌发喉音，用法国口音说出几个拉丁词。

“C'estbien，c'estbien…”④

①法语：我的朋友，你向我许愿了。

②法语：这是确实的吗？

③法语；我的公爵，“人本来就难免犯错误，”可是……

④法语：好啦，好啦……


瓦西里公爵看见了安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜和她带在身边的儿子，便鞠了一躬把那个大夫打发走了，他沉默地、但现出发问的样子向他们面前走去。她儿子发现母亲的眼中忽然流露出极度的忧伤，便微微一笑了之。

“是呀，公爵，我们是在多么忧愁的情况下会面啊！……哦，我们亲爱的病人现在怎样了？”她说道，仿佛没有注意到向她凝视的非常冷漠的、令人屈辱的目光。

瓦西里公爵现出疑虑的惶惑不安的神态看看她，而后又看看鲍里斯。鲍里斯彬彬有礼地鞠了一躬。瓦西里公爵没有躬身答礼，却向安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜转过脸来，摇摇头，努努嘴，以示回答她的问话，公爵的动作意味着病人没有多大希望了。

“莫不是？”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜惊叫道，“啊！这多么可怕！想起来真是骇人哩……这是我的儿子。”她用手指着鲍里斯补充了一句，“他想亲自向您表示感激。”

鲍里斯又彬彬有礼地鞠了一躬。

“公爵，请您相信我吧，母亲心眼里永远也不会忘记您为我们做的善事。”

“我亲爱的安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜，我能做一点使你们愉快的事情，我感到非常高兴。”瓦西里公爵说道，又把胸口的皱褶花边弄平。在这儿，在莫斯科，在受庇护的安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜面前，和在彼得堡安内特·舍列尔举办的晚会上相比较，他的姿态和声调都表明他高傲得多了。

“你好好供职，尽力而为，做个当之无愧的臣民，”他很严肃地对着鲍里斯补充说，“我感到非常高兴……您在这里休假么？”他用冷漠的语调说，迫使他照办。

“大人，我听候命令，接到新的任命就动身。”鲍里斯答道，他不因公爵的生硬语调而恼怒，也不表示他有交谈的心意，但他心地平静，态度十分恭敬，公爵禁不住用那凝集的目光朝他瞥了一眼。

“您和您母亲住在一起吗？”

“我住在那个叫做罗斯托娃的伯爵夫人那里，”鲍里斯说道，又补充一句话：“大人。”

“这就是那个娶了娜塔莉娅·申申娜的伊利亚·罗斯托夫。”安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜说道。

“我知道，我知道，”瓦西里公爵用单调的嗓音说道，“Jen'aijamaispuconcevoir，commentNathalies'estdécideeàépousercetoursmal—leche！Unpersonnagecomplétementstupideetridicule．Etjoueuràcequ'ondit。”①。

“maistresbravehomme，monprince，”②安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜说道，脸上流露出令人感动的微笑，仿佛她也知道，罗斯托夫伯爵值得这样评价似的，可是她请求人家怜悯一下这个可怜的老头。

“大夫们说了什么呢？”公爵夫人沉默片刻后发问，她那泪痕斑斑的脸上又流露出极度的哀愁。

“希望不大了。”公爵说道。

“不过我很想再一次地感谢叔叔对我和鲍里斯的恩赐。C'estsonfilleul。”③她补充一句，那语调听来仿佛这个消息必然会使瓦西里公爵分外高兴似的。

①法语：我从来都不明白，娜塔莎竟然拿定主意嫁给这头邋遢的狗熊。十分愚蠢而荒唐。据说，还是个赌棍哩。

②公爵，但他为人厚道。

③法语：这是他的教子。


瓦西里公爵陷入了沉思，蹙起了额头。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜心中明白，根据别祖霍夫的遗嘱来看，他怕她成为争夺财产的敌手，她赶快让他安心下来。

“如果不是我有真挚的爱心，对叔叔一片忠诚，”她说道，露出特别自信和漫不经心的样子说出“叔叔”这个词：“我熟悉他的性格，高尚而坦率，可是要知道，他身边尽是一些公爵小姐……她们都很年轻……”她低下头来，轻言细语地补充说道：“公爵，他是否履行了最后的义务，送了他的终？这最后的时刻多么宝贵啊！要知道，比这临终更糟的事是不会有的了，既然他的病情如此沉重，就必须给他准备后事。公爵，我们妇女辈，”她很温和地微微一笑，“一向就知道这些话应该怎样说哩。我务必要去见他一面。无论这件事使我怎样难受，可我养成了忍受痛苦的习惯。”

公爵显然已经明了，甚至在安内特·舍列尔举办的晚会上就已明了，很难摆脱开安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜这位夫人。

“亲爱的安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜，这次见面不会使他难受吧，”他说道，“我们就等到晚上好了。大夫们预告了危象。”

“公爵，可是在这种时刻，不能等待啊。Pensez，ilyvadusalutdesoname…Ah！c'estterrible，lesdevoirsd'unchrétien…”①

①法语：我想想看，这事情涉及他的灵魂的拯救……啊！这多么可怕，一个基督徒的义务……


内室里的一扇门开了，一位公爵小姐——伯爵的侄女走出来了，显露出忧郁的冷淡的脸色，她腰身太长，和两腿很不相称。

瓦西里公爵向她转过脸来。

“哦，他怎么样了？”

“还是那个样子。不管您认为怎样，这一阵喧嚣……”公爵小姐说道，回头望着安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜便像望着一个陌生人拟的。

“Ah，chère，jenevousreconnaissaispas，”①安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜含着幸福的微笑，说道，她迈着轻盈而迅速的脚步向伯爵的侄女面前走去，“JeviensdamivenetjesnisanauspounvousaidenasoignenmononcleJ'imagine，comlienvousanegsouggent．”②她同情地翻着白眼，补充说道。

公爵小姐一言未答，甚至没有微微一笑，就立刻走出去了。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜脱下了手套，摆出洋洋自得的姿态，在安乐椅里坐下来了，并请瓦西里公爵坐在她近旁。

“鲍里斯！”她微微一笑，对儿子说道，“我上伯爵叔叔那里去，我的朋友，你先到皮埃尔那里去，别忘记转告他，罗斯托夫家邀请他。他们请他用午饭。我想他去不成，是吗？”

她把脸转向公爵说道。

“正好相反，”公爵说道，看来他的心绪欠佳，“Jeseraistrescontentsivousmedebarrassezdecejeunehomme

……③他就在这里，伯爵一次也没有询问他的情况。”

他耸耸肩。堂倌领着这个年轻人下楼，从另一座楼梯上楼，到彼得·基里洛维奇那里去了。

①法语：啊，亲爱的，我没有认出您了。

②法语：我来帮助您照料叔叔。我想象得到，你够辛苦的了。

③法语：如果您能够使我摆脱这个年轻人，那我就会感到非常高兴……

CHAPTER XIII

Chinese


PIERRE had not succeeded in fixing upon a career in Petersburg, and really had been banished to Moscow for disorderly conduct. The story told about him at Count Rostov's was true. Pierre had assisted in tying the police officer to the bear. He had arrived a few days previously, stopping as he always did at his father's house. Though he had assumed that his story would be already known at Moscow, and that the ladies who were about his father, always unfavourably disposed to him, would profit by this opportunity of turning the count against him, he went on the day of his arrival to his father's part of the house. Going into the drawing-room, where the princesses usually sat, he greeted the ladies, two of whom were sitting at their embroidery frames, while one read aloud. There were three of them. The eldest, a trim, long-waisted, severe maiden-lady, the one who had come out to Anna Mihalovna, was reading. The younger ones, both rosy and pretty, were only to be distinguished by the fact that one of them had a little mole which made her much prettier. They were both working at their embroidery frames. Pierre was received like a man risen from the dead or stricken with plague. The eldest princess paused in her reading and stared at him in silence with dismay in her eyes. The second assumed precisely the same expression. The youngest, the one with the mole, who was of a mirthful and laughing disposition, bent over her frame, to conceal a smile, probably evoked by the amusing scene she foresaw coming. She pulled her embroidery wool out below, and bent down as though examining the pattern, hardly able to suppress her laughter.

“Good morning, cousin,” said Pierre. “You don't know me?”

“I know you only too well, only too well.”

“How is the count? Can I see him?” Pierre asked, awkwardly as always, but not disconcerted.

“The count is suffering both physically and morally, and your only anxiety seems to be to occasion him as much suffering as possible.”

“Can I see the count?” repeated Pierre.

“Hm … if you want to kill him, to kill him outright, you can see him. Olga, go and see if uncle's broth is ready—it will soon be time for it,” she added, to show Pierre they were busy, and busy in seeing after his father's comfort, while he was obviously only busy in causing him discomfort.

Olga went out. Pierre stood still a moment, looked at the sisters and bowing said: “Then I will go to my room. When I can see him, you will tell me.” He went away and heard the ringing but not loud laugh of the sister with the mole behind him.

The next day Prince Vassily had come and settled in the count's house. He sent for Pierre and said to him:

“My dear fellow, if you behave here as you did at Petersburg, you will come to a very bad end; that's all I have to say to you. The count is very, very ill; you must not see him.”

Since then Pierre had not been disturbed, and he spent the whole day alone in his room upstairs.

At the moment when Boris came in, Pierre was walking up and down his room, stopping now and then in the corners, making menacing gestures at the wall, as though thrusting some invisible enemy through with a lance, then he gazed sternly over his spectacles, then pacing up and down again, murmuring indistinct words, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating.

“England's day is over!” he said, scowling and pointing at some one with his finger. “Mr. Pitt, as a traitor to the nation and to the rights of man, is condemned…” he had not time to deliver Pitt's sentence, imagining himself at that moment Napoleon, and having in the person of his hero succeeded in the dangerous crossing of the Channel and in the conquest of London, when he saw a graceful, handsome young officer come in. He stood still. Pierre had seen Boris last as a boy of fourteen, and did not remember him in the least. But in spite of that he took his hand in his characteristically quick and warm-hearted manner, and smiled cordially at him.

“You remember me?” Boris said calmly with a pleasant smile. “I have come with my mother to see the count, but it seems he is not quite well.”

“Yes, he is ill, it seems. People are always bothering him,” answered Pierre, trying to recall who this youth might be.

Boris perceived that Pierre did not know him, but did not think fit to make himself known, and without the slightest embarrassment looked him straight in the face.

“Count Rostov asks you to come to dinner with him to-day,” he said, after a rather long silence somewhat disconcerting for Pierre.

“Ah, Count Rostov,” began Pierre, delighted. “So you are his son, Ilya? Can you believe it, for the first moment I did not recognise you. Do you remember how we used to slide on the Sparrow Hills with Madame Jacquot … long ago?”

“You are mistaken,” said Boris, deliberately, with a bold and rather sarcastic smile. “I am Boris, the son of Princess Anna Mihalovna Drubetskoy. It is the father of the Rostovs who is called Ilya, the son's Nikolay. And I don't know any Madame Jacquot.”

Pierre shook his hands and head, as though flies or bees were swarming upon him.

“Ah, how is it! I've mixed it all up. There are such a lot of relatives in Moscow! You are Boris … yes. Well, now, we have got it clear. Tell me, what do you think of the Boulogne expedition? Things will go badly with the English, you know, if Napoleon gets across the Channel. I believe that the expedition is very possible. If only Villeneuve doesn't make a mess of it!”

Boris knew nothing at all about the Boulogne expedition, and it was the first time he had heard of Villeneuve.

“Here in Moscow we are more interested in dinner parties and scandal than in politics,” he said in his self-possessed, sarcastic tone. “I know nothing and think nothing about it. Moscow's more engrossed in scandal than anything,” he went on. “Just now they are all talking about you and about the count.”

Pierre smiled his kindly smile, as though afraid for his companion's sake that he might say something he would regret. But Boris spoke distinctly, clearly and drily, looking straight into Pierre's face.

“There's nothing else to do in Moscow but talk scandal,” he went on. “Every one's absorbed in the question whom the count will leave his fortune to, though perhaps he will outlive us all, as I sincerely hope he may.”

“Yes, all that's very horrid,” Pierre interposed, “very horrid.” Pierre was still afraid this officer would inadvertently drop into some remark disconcerting for himself.

“And it must seem to you,” said Boris, flushing slightly, but not changing his voice or attitude, “it must seem to you that every one's thinking of nothing but getting something from him.”

“That's just it,” thought Pierre.

“And that's just what I want to say to you to prevent misunderstandings, that you are very much mistaken if you reckon me and my mother among those people. We are very poor, but I—at least I speak for myself—just because your father is rich, I don't consider myself a relation of his, and neither I nor my mother would ever ask him for anything or take anything from him.”

It was a long while before Pierre understood, but, when he did understand, he jumped up from the sofa, seized Boris's hand with his characteristic quickness and awkwardness, and blushing far more than Boris, began speaking with a mixed sensation of shame and annoyance.

“Well, this is strange! Do you suppose I … how you could think … I know very well …”

But Boris again interrupted him.

“I am glad I have told you everything frankly. Perhaps you dislike it: you must excuse me,” he said, trying to put Pierre at his ease instead of being put at his ease by him; “but I hope I have not offended you. I make it a rule to say everything quite plainly.… Then what message am I to take? You will come to dinner at the Rostovs'?” And Boris, with an evident sense of having discharged an onerous duty, having extricated himself from an awkward position, and put somebody else into one became perfectly pleasant again.

“No, let me tell you,” said Pierre, regaining his composure, “you are a wonderful person. What you have just said was very fine, very fine. Of course you don't know me, it's so long since we've seen each other … we were children.… You might suppose I should … I understand, I quite understand. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have had the courage, but it's splendid. I'm very glad I have made your acquaintance. A queer idea,” he added, pausing and smiling, “you must have had of me.” He laughed. “But what of it? Let us know each other better, please!” He pressed Boris's hand. “Do you know I've not once seen the count? He has not sent for me … I am sorry for him, as a man … But what can one do?”

“And so you think Napoleon will succeed in getting his army across?” Boris queried, smiling.

Pierre saw that Boris was trying to change the conversation, and so he began explaining the advantages and difficulties of the Boulogne expedition.

A footman came in to summon Boris to the princess. The princess was going. Pierre promised to come to dinner in order to see more of Boris, and pressed his hand warmly at parting, looking affectionately into his face over his spectacles.

When he had gone, Pierre walked for some time longer up and down his room, not thrusting at an unseen foe, but smiling at the recollection of that charming, intelligent, and resolute young man.

As so often happens with young people, especially if they are in a position of loneliness, he felt an unreasonable tenderness for this youth, and he firmly resolved to become friends with him.

Prince Vassily accompanied the princess to the hall. The princess was holding her handkerchief to her eyes, and her face was tearful.

“It is terrible, terrible!” she said; “but whatever it costs me, I will do my duty. I will come to stay the night. He can't be left like this. Every minute is precious. I can't understand why his nieces put it off. Maybe God will help me to find a way to prepare him. Adieu, prince, may God support you …”

“Adieu, my kind friend,” answered Prince Vassily, turning away from her.

“Oh, he is in an awful position!” said the mother to her son, when they were sitting in the carriage again. “He scarcely knows any one.”

“I don't understand, mamma, what his attitude is as regards Pierre.”

“The will will make all that plain, my dear; our fate, too, hangs upon it.…”

“But what makes you think he will leave us anything?”

“Oh, my dear! He is so rich, and we are so poor.”

“Well, that's hardly a sufficient reason, mamma.”

“Oh, my God, how ill he is, how ill he is!” cried his mother.

第十三章

英文 



皮埃尔在彼得堡始终没有给自己选择一门职业，他确因滋意闹事被驱逐到莫斯科去。有人在罗斯托夫家叙述的那则故事合乎事实。皮埃尔参与了一起捆绑警察分局局长和狗熊的案件。他在几天前才回来，像平日一样，呆在父亲住宅里。虽然他推想，他的这段历史，莫斯科已经家喻户晓。他父亲周围的那些太太一向对他不怀好意，她们要借此机会使他父亲忿怒。但是在他抵达的那天，他还是到他父亲的寓所去了。他走进公爵小姐平时驻足的客厅，向用绷子绣花和读书（她们之中有一人正在朗读一本书）的几个小姐打招呼。她们共有三个人。年长的小姐素性好洁，腰身太长，面部表情过分严肃，她就是到过安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜家里串门的姑娘，她在朗读一本书；两个年幼的小姐脸颊粉红，十分秀丽，她们之间的差异只是其中一位唇上长着一点使她显得更为美丽的胎痣，她们二人都用绷子绣花哩。她们会见皮埃尔，把他看作死人或鼠疫病人。年长的公爵小姐中断了朗读，默不做声地用恐惧的眼睛朝他瞟了一眼；那位年幼的公爵小姐，脸上没有胎痣，却流露出同样的表情；最年幼的小姐，脸上长着一点胎痣，天性活泼，滑稽可笑，她朝绷子弯下腰去，藏起了笑意，大概她已预见到即将演出一幕闹剧，这使她觉得可笑。她把绒线向下扯，弯下腰来，好像在识别图案似的，好不容易她才忍住没有笑出声来。

“Bomjour，macousine，”皮埃尔说道，“VousnemereBconnaissezpas？”①

“我还记得很清楚，很清楚。”

“伯爵的健康情况怎样？我能会见他吗？”皮埃尔像平日那样不好意思地问道，但并没有困窘不安。

“伯爵无论在身体上，还是在精神上都遭受痛苦，似乎您试图使他在精神上遭受更大的痛苦。”

“我能会见伯爵吗？”皮埃尔重复自己说过的话。

“嗯！……假如您想杀死他，杀掉他，那么您就能见他一面。奥莉加，走去看看，表叔喝的汤炖好了吗，时候快到了。”她补充说道，向皮埃尔表示，她们都很忙，正忙着安慰他父亲，显然他只是忙着让他父亲心痛。

奥莉加走出去了。皮埃尔站了片刻，望望那两个表妹，鞠了一躬，说道：

“那我就到自己房里去好了。在能会面的时候，就请你们告诉我吧。”

他走出去了，身后传来那个长有胎痣的表妹的洪亮悦耳、但却低沉的笑声。

翌日，瓦西里公爵来了，他在伯爵家里落歇。他把皮埃尔喊到身边，对他说道：

“Moncher，sivousvousconduisezici，commeà

Pétersbeurg，vousfinireztrèsmal；c'esttoutcequejevousdis，②伯爵的病情很严重，很严重；你根本用不着和他见面。”

①法语：表妹，您好，您不认识我了？

②法语：我亲爱的，假如您在这里也像在彼得堡那样行为不正当，结果会弄得很糟，这是真话。


从那时起，大家不再打扰皮埃尔了，他孑然一人整天价呆在楼上自己房里。

当鲍里斯向皮埃尔房里走进来时，他正在房里来回踱方步，有时候在屋角里停步不前，对着墙壁做出威胁的手势，仿佛用长剑刺杀那看不见的敌人似的，他板起脸孔从眼镜上方向外张望，然后又开始踱来踱去，有时候口里喃喃地说着不清晰的话语，他耸耸肩，摊开两手。

“L'Angleterreavécu，”①他皱起眉头，用手指指着某人说道，“M．Pittcommetraitreàlanationetaudroitdesgensestcondamnéà…”②这时分他把自己想象为拿破仑本人，并随同英雄经历危险越过加来海峡，侵占了伦敦，但他尚未说完处死皮特这句话时，忽然看见一个身材匀称、面目俊秀、向他走来的青年军官。他停步了。皮埃尔离开鲍里斯时，他才是个十四岁的男孩，皮埃尔简直记不得他了，尽管如此，皮埃尔还是现出他所特有的敏捷而热情的样子，一把握住鲍里斯的手，脸上含着友善的微笑。

①法语：英国完蛋了。

②法语：皮特是个背叛民族、出卖民权的败类，要判处……


“您记得我吗？”鲍里斯面露愉快的微笑，心平气和地说道，“我和我母亲来找伯爵，可是他好像身体欠佳。”

“是啊，他好像身体欠佳。人家老是打扰他。”皮埃尔答道，竭力地追忆这个年轻人到底是何人。

鲍里斯觉得，皮埃尔不认识他了，但他认为用不着说出自己的姓名，两眼直盯着他的眼睛，丝毫不觉得困惑不安。

“罗斯托夫伯爵请您今天到他家去用午饭。”他在相当长久的使皮埃尔觉得很不自在的沉默后说道。

“啊！罗斯托夫伯爵！”皮埃尔高兴地说道，“伊利亚，那末，您就是他的儿子罗？您可以想想，我头一眼没有把您认出来呢。您还记得我们和m－meJacquot①乘车上麻雀山吗？

……那是很久很久以前的事啊。”

①法语：雅科太太。


“您搞错了，”鲍里斯露出不同凡俗的略带讥讽的微笑，不慌不忙地说道，“我是鲍里斯，是叫做安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜·德鲁别茨卡娅的公爵夫人的儿子，罗斯托夫的父亲叫做伊利亚，他儿子叫做尼古拉。我可不认识什么雅科太太。”

皮埃尔挥了挥手，晃了晃脑袋，好像有蚊蚋或蜜蜂向他袭来似的。

“哎，是怎么回事啊！我把什么都搞混了。有这么许多莫斯科的亲戚！是的，您是鲍里斯……嗯，我们说得有个头绪了。喂，您对布伦远征有什么看法呢？只要拿破仑渡过海峡，英国人就要遭殃了，是吗？我想，远征是十拿九稳的事。但愿维尔纳夫不要出漏子！”

布伦远征的事，鲍里斯一无所知，他不看报，还是头一次听到维尔纳夫这个人物。

“我们在这个地方，在莫斯科，对午宴和谗言比对政治更为关心，”他用那平静的讥讽的语调说道，“这事情，我一无所知，心里也不去想它。莫斯科最关心的是谗言，”他继续说道，“眼下大家都在谈论您，谈论伯爵哩。”

皮埃尔露出善意的微笑，好像他惧怕对方会说出什么使他本人懊悔的话。但是鲍里斯一直盯着皮埃尔的眼睛，他说话时，听来令人信服，但却索然乏味。

“莫斯科除开散布流言飞语而外，再也没有事情可干了，”他继续说道，“大家都在关心，伯爵会把财产留给什么人，不过他可能比我们大家活得更长，这就是我的衷心的祝愿……”

“说得对，这真够呛，”皮埃尔随着说起来，“真是够呛。”皮埃尔老是害怕这个军官会出乎意外地热衷于一场使他本人感到尴尬的谈话。

“您必定以为。”鲍里斯有点涨红了脸，说道，但没有改变嗓音和姿态，“您必定以为，大家关心的只是从富翁那里得到什么东西。”

“真是这样。”皮埃尔思忖了一会。

“为了要避免误解，我正想把话对您说，假如您把我和我母亲都算在这类人之列，那就大错特错了。我们虽然很贫穷，但我至少要替自己说话；正是因为您父亲很富有，我才不把自己看成是他的亲戚，无论是我，还是我母亲，我们永远也不会乞讨他的任何东西，也不会接受他的任何东西。”

皮埃尔久久地不能明白，但是当他明白了，他就从沙发上飞快跳起来，以他那固有的敏捷而笨拙的动作一把托住了鲍里斯的手臂；这时分他比鲍里斯的脸红得厉害多了，满怀着又羞愧又懊悔的感情说起话来：

“这多么古怪！我难道……可谁又会去想呢？……我十分清楚……”

可是鲍里斯又把他的话打断了：

“我把话全部说出来了，我觉得非常高兴。您也许会不乐意，就请您原谅我吧。”他说道，不仅不让皮埃尔安慰他，他反而安慰皮埃尔，“但是我希望，我不会使您受到屈辱。我的规矩是坦率地把话说干净……我应该怎样转达呢？您去罗斯托夫家吃午饭吗？”

鲍里斯显然推卸了沉重的责任，自己摆脱了尴尬的处境，却又使别人处于那种境地，于是他又变得非常愉快了。

“不，请您听我说吧，”皮埃尔心平气和地说道，“您是个不平凡的人。您方才说的话很不错，很不错。不消说，您不认识我了。我们许久不见面了……那时候还是儿童呢……您可以把我推测一番……我心里明白，十分明白。如果我缺乏勇气，这件事我就办不成啊，可是这棒极了。我和您认识了，我觉得非常高兴。说来真奇怪，”他沉默片刻，面露微笑地补充了一句，“您把我推测成什么样子！”他笑了起来。“也罢，这没有什么，那怎样呢？我们以后会认识得更加透彻的。就这样吧。”他握握鲍里斯的手。“您是否知道，伯爵那儿我一次也没有去过哩。他没邀请我……我怜悯他这个人……可是有什么法子呢？”

“您以为拿破仑会派军队越过海峡吗？”鲍里斯面露微笑地问道。

皮埃尔心里明白，鲍里斯想要改变话题，于是答应他了，开始诉说布伦远征之事的利与弊。

仆役走来呼唤鲍里斯去见公爵夫人。公爵夫人快要走了。皮埃尔答应来用午饭，为了要和鲍里斯亲近起来，他紧紧地握着鲍里斯的手，透过眼镜温和地望着他的眼睛……他离开以后，皮埃尔又在房间里久久地踱着方步，他再也不用长剑去刺杀那个望不见的敌人了；当他回想起这个聪明可爱、性格坚强的年轻人时，脸上微露笑容。

正像青春时期的人，尤其是像独居之时的人那样，他对这个年轻人抱着一种无缘无故的温情，他起誓了，一定要和他做个朋友。

瓦西里公爵送走公爵夫人。公爵夫人用手巾捂着眼角，她泪流满面。

“这多么可怕！多么可怕！”她说道，“无论我花费多大的代价，我也要履行自己的义务。我准来过夜。不能就这样丢下他不管。每瞬间都很宝贵啊。我真不明白，公爵小姐们干嘛要磨磨蹭蹭。也许上帝会帮助我想出办法来给他准备后事……Adieu，monprince，quelebonDieuvoussoutienne……”①

“Adieu，mabonne，”②瓦西里公爵答道，一面转过脸去避开她。

①法语：公爵，再见吧，但愿上帝保佑您……

②法语：我亲爱的，再见吧。


“唉，他的病势很严重，糟糕透了，”当母亲和儿子又坐上四轮轿式马车时，母亲对儿子说道，“他几乎什么人也认不得了。”

“妈妈，我不明白，他对皮埃尔的态度怎样？”儿子问道。

“遗嘱将说明一切，我的亲人，我们的命运以它为转移……”

“可是您为什么认为，他会把点什么东西留给我们呢？”

“唉，我的朋友！他那么富有，可我们却这么穷！”

“嘿，妈妈，这还不是充分的理由啊。”

“哎呀，我的天！我的天！他病得多么厉害啊！”母亲悲叹地说道。

CHAPTER XIV

Chinese


WHEN ANNA MIHALOVNA had driven off with her son to Count Kirill Vladimirovitch Bezuhov's, Countess Rostov sat a long while alone, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. At last she rang the bell.


“What does it mean?” she said angrily to the maid, who had kept her waiting a few minutes; “don't you care for my service, eh? I'll find you another place, if so.”

The countess was distressed at the troubles and degrading poverty of her friend, and so out of humour, which always found expression in such remarks to her servants.

“I'm very sorry,” said the maid.

“Ask the count to come to me.”

The count came waddling in to see his wife, looking, as usual, rather guilty.

“Well, little countess! What a sauté of woodcocks and Madeira we're to have, ma chère! I've tried it; I did well to give a thousand roubles for Taras. He's worth it!”

He sat down by his wife, setting his elbow jauntily on his knee, and ruffling up his grey hair. “What are your commands, little countess?”

“It's this, my dear—why, what is this mess on you here?” she said, pointing to his waistcoat. “It's the sauté, most likely,” she added, smiling. “It's this, my dear, I want some money.” Her face became gloomy.

“Ah, little countess! …” And the count fidgeted about, pulling out his pocket-book.

“I want a great deal, count. I want five hundred roubles.” And taking out her cambric handkerchief she wiped her husband's waistcoat.

“This minute, this minute. Hey, who's there?” he shouted, as men only shout who are certain that those they call will run headlong at their summons. “Send Mitenka to me!”

Mitenka, the young man of noble family who had been brought up in the count's house, and now had charge of all his money affairs, walked softly into the room.

“Here, my dear boy,” said the count to the young man, who came up respectfully. “Bring me,” he thought a moment, “yes, seven hundred roubles, yes. And mind, don't bring me such torn and dirty notes as last time; nice ones now, for the countess.”

“Yes, Mitenka, clean ones, please,” said the countess with a depressed sigh.

“Your excellency, when do you desire me to get the money?” said Mitenka. “Your honour ought to know … But don't trouble,” he added, noticing that the count was beginning to breathe rapidly and heavily, which was always the sign of approaching anger. “I was forgetting … This minute do you desire me to bring them?”

“Yes, yes, just so, bring them. Give them to the countess. What a treasure that Mitenka is,” added the count, smiling, when the young man had gone out. “He doesn't know the meaning of impossible. That's a thing I can't bear. Everything's possible.”

“Ah, money, count, money, what a lot of sorrow it causes in the world!” said the countess. “This money I am in great need of.”

“You are a terrible spendthrift, little countess, we all know,” said the count, and kissing his wife's hand he went away again to his own room.

When Anna Mihalovna came back from the Bezuhovs', the money was already on the countess's little table, all in new notes, under her pocket-handkerchief. Anna Mihalovna noticed that the countess was fluttered about something.

“Well, my dear?” queried the countess.

“Ah, he is in a terrible condition! One would not recognise him, he is so ill, so ill; I was there only a minute, and did not say two words.”

“Annette, for God's sake don't refuse me,” the countess said suddenly with a blush, which was strangely incongruous with her elderly, thin, and dignified face, taking the money from under her handkerchief. Anna Mihalovna instantly grasped the situation, and was already bending over to embrace the countess at the appropriate moment.

“This is for Boris, from me, for his equipment …”

Anna Mihalovna was already embracing her and weeping. The countess wept too. They wept because they were friends, and because they were soft-hearted, and that they, who had been friends in youth, should have to think of anything so base as money, and that their youth was over.… But the tears of both were sweet to them.…

第十四章

英文 


当安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜偕同儿子乘车去基里尔·弗拉基米罗维奇·别祖霍夫伯爵家时，叫做罗斯托娃的伯爵夫人用手巾捂着自己的眼睛，她独自端坐良久，而后按了一下铃。

“亲爱的，您怎么啦，”伯爵夫人对强迫自己等候片刻的婢女气忿地说道，“您不愿意服务，是不是？那我就替您另找活儿做。”

伯爵夫人的女友极为痛苦，一贫如洗，忍屈受辱，伯爵夫人感到伤心，因此情绪不佳，每逢这种情形，她总是借用“亲爱的”和“您”称呼婢女，以示心境。

“我有过错，夫人。”婢女说道。

“请伯爵到我这里来。”

伯爵踉踉跄跄地向妻子跟前走来，像平时一样，脸上露出一点愧悔的样子。

“啊，伯爵夫人！sautéaumadère①炒花尾榛鸡，非常可口，machene！我尝了一下。买塔拉斯卡没有白花一千卢布，值得！”

①法语：调味汁加马德拉葡萄酒。


他坐在妻子身旁，豪放地把胳膊肘撑在膝盖上，斑白的头发给弄得蓬乱。

“我的伯爵夫人，有什么吩咐？”

“我的亲人，原来是这么回事，你这里怎么弄脏了？”她用手指着他的西装背心说道，“这是调味汁，说真的，”她面露微笑，补充了一句，“听我说，伯爵，我要钱用。”

她的脸上露出愁容。

“啊，我的伯爵夫人！……”伯爵忙乱起来了，取出钱夹子。

“伯爵，我要很多钱，我需要五百卢布。”她掏出细亚麻手绢，揩丈夫的西装背心。

“马上，马上。喂，谁在那里呀？”他吼道，只有在他深信被呼唤的人会迅速应声而来的情况下，才用这样的嗓门呼喊，“喊米坚卡到我这儿来！”

米坚卡是在伯爵家受过教育的贵族的儿子，现在主管伯爵家里的事务，这时他脚步轻盈地走进房里来。

“亲爱的，听着，”伯爵对那走进来的恭恭敬敬的年轻人说道，“你把……给我拿来，”他沉思起来，“对，七百卢布，对。你要小心，像上次那样破破烂烂的肮肮脏脏的不要拿来，给伯爵夫人拿些好的纸币来。”

“米坚卡，对，请你拿干净的纸币，”伯爵夫人忧郁地呼气，说道。

“大人，您吩咐什么时候拿来？”米坚卡说道，“您知道，是这么回事……但是请您放心，”他发现伯爵开始急促地、困难地呼吸，向来这是他开始发怒的征候，于是补充了一句，“我几乎置之脑后了……您吩咐我马上送来吗？”

“对，对，就是这样，送来吧。要交给伯爵夫人。”

“这个米坚卡是我的金不换，”当年轻人走出门去，伯爵微笑着，补充一句话，“没有什么‘行不通'的事。‘行不通'这样的说法我可忍受不了啊。什么事都行得通。”

“唉，伯爵，重钱，贪钱。金钱引起了人世间的多少悲伤！”

伯爵夫人说道，“我可很需要这笔钱。”

“我的伯爵夫人，您是个出了名的爱挥霍的女人。”伯爵说道，吻吻妻子的手，又走回书斋去了。

当安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜离开别祖霍夫又回到家里时，那笔钱用手绢盖着，搁在伯爵夫人身边的茶几上，全是崭新的钞票。安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜发现，伯爵夫人不知为何事扫兴起来。

“喂，我的朋友，怎么样了？”伯爵夫人问道。

“唉，他的病势十分恶劣！真没法认出他是谁了，他的病情太严重，太严重。我呆了一下子，竟没有说出两句话……”

“安内特，看在上帝份上，不要拒绝我吧，”伯爵夫人忽然说，面红耳赤，这在她那瘦削、庄重、中年人的面孔上显得十分古怪。这时候，她从手帕下面掏出钱来。

安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜霎时明白了是怎么回事，于是弯下腰去，好在适当的瞬间巧妙地拥抱伯爵夫人。

“这是我给鲍里斯缝制军装的钱……”

安娜·米哈伊洛夫娜一面拥抱她，一面哭泣起来。伯爵夫人也哭起来了。她们之所以哭泣，是因为她们和睦相处，她们待人都很仁慈，她们是青春时代的朋友，她们现在关心的竟是卑鄙的东西——金钱；她们之所以哭泣，还因为她们的青春已经逝去了……可是从这两人的眼里流下的倒是愉快的眼泪……

CHAPTER XV

Chinese


COUNTESS ROSTOV, with her daughters and the greater number of the guests, was sitting in the drawing-room. The count led the gentlemen of the party to his room, calling their attention to his connoisseur's collection of Turkish pipes. Now and then he went out and inquired, had she come yet? They were waiting for Marya Dmitryevna Ahrosimov, known in society as le te