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Chapter 26 - Prince Andrey at Bald Hills
The gray-haired valet was sitting drowsily1 listening to the snoring of the prince, who was in his large study. From the far side of the house through the closed doors came the sound of difficult passages — twenty times repeated — of a sonata2 by Dussek.
Just then a closed carriage and another with a hood3 drove up to the porch. Prince Andrey got out of the carriage, helped his little wife to alight, and let her pass into the house before him. Old Tikhon, wearing a wig4, put his head out of the door of the antechamber, reported in a whisper that the prince was sleeping, and hastily closed the door. Tikhon knew that neither the son’s arrival nor any other unusual event must be allowed to disturb the appointed order of the day. Prince Andrey apparently5 knew this as well as Tikhon; he looked at his watch as if to ascertain6 whether his father’s habits had changed since he was at home last, and, having assured himself that they had not, he turned to his wife.
“He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go across to Marya’s room,” he said.
The little princess had grown stouter7 during this time, but her eyes and her short, downy, smiling lip lifted when she began to speak just as merrily and prettily8 as ever.
“Why, this is a palace!” she said to her husband, looking around with the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball. “Let’s come, quick, quick!” And with a glance round, she smiled at Tikhon, at her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them.
“Is that Marya practicing? Let’s go quietly and take her by surprise.”
“You’ve grown older, Tikhon,” he said in passing to the old man, who kissed his hand.
Before they reached the room from which the sounds of the clavichord10 came, the pretty, fair haired Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Bourienne, rushed out apparently beside herself with delight.
“Ah! what joy for the princess!” exclaimed she: “At last! I must let her know.”
“No, no, please not . . . You are Mademoiselle Bourienne,” said the little princess, kissing her. “I know you already through my sister-in-law’s friendship for you. She was not expecting us?”
They went up to the door of the sitting room from which came the sound of the oft-repeated passage of the sonata. Prince Andrey stopped and made a grimace11, as if expecting something unpleasant.
The little princess entered the room. The passage broke off in the middle, a cry was heard, then Princess Marya’s heavy tread and the sound of kissing. When Prince Andrey went in the two princesses, who had only met once before for a short time at his wedding, were in each other’s arms warmly pressing their lips to whatever place they happened to touch. Mademoiselle Bourienne stood near them pressing her hand to her heart, with a beatific12 smile and obviously equally ready to cry or to laugh. Prince Andrey shrugged13 his shoulders and frowned, as lovers of music do when they hear a false note. The two women let go of one another, and then, as if afraid of being too late, seized each other’s hands, kissing them and pulling them away, and again began kissing each other on the face, and then to Prince Andrey’s surprise both began to cry and kissed again. Mademoiselle Bourienne also began to cry. Prince Andrey evidently felt ill at ease, but to the two women it seemed quite natural that they should cry, and apparently it never entered their heads that it could have been otherwise at this meeting.
“Ah! my dear! . . . Ah! Marya!” they suddenly exclaimed, and then laughed. “I dreamed last night . . . ”— “You were not expecting us? . . . ”— “Ah! Marya, you have got thinner? . . . ” “And you have grown stouter! . . . ”
“I knew the princess at once,” put in Mademoiselle Bourienne.
“And I had no idea! . . . ” exclaimed Princess Marya. “Ah, Andrey, I did not see you.”
Prince Andrey and his sister, hand in hand, kissed one another, and he told her she was still the same crybaby as ever. Princess Marya had turned toward her brother, and through her tears the loving, warm, gentle look of her large luminous14 eyes, very beautiful at that moment, rested on Prince Andrey’s face.
The little princess talked incessantly15, her short, downy upper lip continually and rapidly touching16 her rosy17 nether18 lip when necessary and drawing up again next moment when her face broke into a smile of glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. She told of an accident they had had on the Spasski Hill which might have been serious for her in her condition, and immediately after that informed them that she had left all her clothes in Petersburg and that heaven knew what she would have to dress in here; and that Andrey had quite changed, and that Kitty Odyntsova had married an old man, and that there was a suitor for Marya, a real one, but that they would talk of that later. Princess Marya was still looking silently at her brother and her beautiful eyes were full of love and sadness. It was plain that she was following a train of thought independent of her sister-in-law’s words. In the midst of a description of the last Petersburg fete she addressed her brother:
“So you are really going to the war, Andrey?” she said sighing.
Lisa sighed too.
“Yes, and even tomorrow,” replied her brother.
Princess Marya did not listen to the end, but continuing her train of thought turned to her sister-in-law with a tender glance at her figure.
“Is it certain?” she said.
The face of the little princess changed. She sighed and said: “Yes, quite certain. Ah! it is very dreadful . . . ”
Her lip descended20. She brought her face close to her sister-in-law’s and unexpectedly again began to cry.
“She needs rest,” said Prince Andrey with a frown. “Don’t you, Lisa? Take her to your room and I’ll go to Father. How is he? Just the same?”
“Yes, just the same. Though I don’t know what your opinion will be,” answered the princess joyfully21.
“And are the hours the same? And the walks in the avenues? And the lathe22?” asked Prince Andrey with a scarcely perceptible smile which showed that, in spite of all his love and respect for his father, he was aware of his weaknesses.
“The hours are the same, and the lathe, and also the mathematics and my geometry lessons,” said Princess Marya gleefully, as if her lessons in geometry were among the greatest delights of her life.
When the twenty minutes had elapsed and the time had come for the old prince to get up, Tikhon came to call the young prince to his father. The old man made a departure from his usual routine in honor of his son’s arrival: he gave orders to admit him to his apartments while he dressed for dinner. The old prince always dressed in old-fashioned style, wearing an antique coat and powdered hair; and when Prince Andrey entered his father’s dressing23 room (not with the contemptuous look and manner he wore in drawing rooms, but with the animated24 face with which he talked to Pierre), the old man was sitting on a large leather-covered chair, wrapped in a powdering mantle25, entrusting26 his head to Tikhon.
“Ah! here’s the warrior27! Wants to vanquish28 Buonaparte?” said the old man, shaking his powdered head as much as the tail, which Tikhon was holding fast to plait, would allow.
“You at least must tackle him properly, or else if he goes on like this he’ll soon have us, too, for his subjects! How are you?” And he held out his cheek.
The old man was in a good temper after his nap before dinner. (He used to say that a nap “after dinner was silver — before dinner, golden.”) He cast happy, sidelong glances at his son from under his thick, bushy eyebrows29. Prince Andrey went up and kissed his father on the spot indicated to him. He made no reply on his father’s favorite topic — making fun of the military men of the day, and more particularly of Bonaparte.
“Yes, Father, I have come come to you and brought my wife who is pregnant,” said Prince Andrey, following every movement of his father’s face with an eager and respectful look. “How is your health?”
“Only fools and rakes fall ill, my boy. You know me: I am busy from morning till night and abstemious30, so of course I am well.”
“Thank God,” said his son smiling.
“God has nothing to do with it! Well, go on,” he continued, returning to his hobby; “tell me how the Germans have taught you to fight Bonaparte by this new science you call ‘strategy.’”
Prince Andrey smiled.
“Give me time to collect my wits, Father,” said he, with a smile that showed that his father’s foibles did not prevent his son from loving and honoring him. “Why, I have not yet had time to settle down!”
“Nonsense, nonsense!” cried the old man, shaking his pigtail to see whether it was firmly plaited, and grasping his by the hand. “The house for your wife is ready. Princess Marya will take her there and show her over, and they’ll talk nineteen to the dozen. That’s their woman’s way! I am glad to have her. Sit down and talk. About Mikhelson’s army I understand — Tolstoy’s too . . . a simultaneous expedition. . . . But what’s the southern army to do? Prussia is neutral . . . I know that. What about Austria?” said he, rising from his chair and pacing up and down the room followed by Tikhon, who ran after him, handing him different articles of clothing. “What of Sweden? How will they cross Pomerania?”
Prince Andrey, seeing that his father insisted, began — at first reluctantly, but gradually with more and more animation31, and from habit changing unconsciously from Russian to French as he went on — to explain the plan of operation for the coming campaign. He explained how an army, ninety thousand strong, was to threaten Prussia so as to bring her out of her neutrality and draw her into the war; how part of that army was to join some Swedish forces at Stralsund; how two hundred and twenty thousand Austrians, with a hundred thousand Russians, were to operate in Italy and on the Rhine; how fifty thousand Russians and as many English were to land at Naples, and how a total force of five hundred thousand men was to attack the French from different sides. The old prince did not evince the least interest during this explanation, but as if he were not listening to it continued to dress while walking about, and three times unexpectedly interrupted. Once he stopped it by shouting: “The white one, the white one!”
This meant that Tikhon was not handing him the waistcoat he wanted. Another time he interrupted, saying:
“And will she soon be confined?” and shaking his head reproachfully said: “That’s bad! Go on, go on.”
The third interruption came when Prince Andrey was finishing his description. The old man began to sing, in the cracked voice of old age: “Malbrook s’en va-t-en guerre. Dieu sait quand reviendra.”*
* “Marlborough is going to the wars; God knows when he’ll return.”
His son only smiled.
“I don’t say it’s a plan I approve of,” said the son; “I am only telling you what it is. Napoleon has also formed his plan by now, not worse than this one.”
“Well, you’ve told me nothing new,” and the old man repeated, meditatively32 and rapidly:
“Dieu sait quand reviendra. Go to the dining room.”
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1
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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2
sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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3
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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4
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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5
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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6
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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7
stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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8
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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9
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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10
clavichord
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| n.（敲弦）古钢琴 | |
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11
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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12
beatific
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| adj.快乐的，有福的 | |
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13
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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14
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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15
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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16
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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17
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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18
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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19
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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20
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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21
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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22
lathe
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| n.车床，陶器，镟床 | |
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23
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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24
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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25
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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26
entrusting
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的现在分词 ) | |
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27
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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28
vanquish
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| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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29
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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30
abstemious
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| adj.有节制的，节俭的 | |
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31
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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32
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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