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Chapter 23
Pierre well knew this large room divided by columns and an arch, its walls hung round with Persian carpets. The part of the room behind the columns, with a high silk-curtained mahogany bedstead on one side and on the other an immense case containing icons1, was brightly illuminated2 with red light like a Russian church during evening service. Under the gleaming icons stood a long invalid3 chair, and in that chair on snowy-white smooth pillows, evidently freshly changed, Pierre saw — covered to the waist by a bright green quilt — the familiar, majestic4 figure of his father, Count Bezukhov, with that gray mane of hair above his broad forehead which reminded one of a lion, and the deep characteristically noble wrinkles of his handsome, ruddy face. He lay just under the icons; his large thick hands outside the quilt. Into the right hand, which was lying palm downwards5, a wax taper6 had been thrust between forefinger7 and thumb, and an old servant, bending over from behind the chair, held it in position. By the chair stood the priests, their long hair falling over their magnificent glittering vestments, with lighted tapers8 in their hands, slowly and solemnly conducting the service. A little behind them stood the two younger princesses holding handkerchiefs to their eyes, and just in front of them their eldest9 sister, Catiche, with a vicious and determined10 look steadily11 fixed12 on the icons, as though declaring to all that she could not answer for herself should she glance round. Anna Mikhaylovna, with a meek13, sorrowful, and all-forgiving expression on her face, stood by the door near the strange lady. Prince Vasili in front of the door, near the invalid chair, a wax taper in his left hand, was leaning his left arm on the carved back of a velvet14 chair he had turned round for the purpose, and was crossing himself with his right hand, turning his eyes upward each time he touched his forehead. His face wore a calm look of piety15 and resignation to the will of God. “If you do not understand these sentiments,” he seemed to be saying, “so much the worse for you!”
Behind him stood the aide-de-camp, the doctors, and the menservants; the men and women had separated as in church. All were silently crossing themselves, and the reading of the church service, the subdued16 chanting of deep bass17 voices, and in the intervals19 sighs and the shuffling20 of feet were the only sounds that could be heard. Anna Mikhaylovna, with an air of importance that showed that she felt she quite knew what she was about, went across the room to where Pierre was standing21 and gave him a taper. He lit it and, distracted by observing those around him, began crossing himself with the hand that held the taper.
Sophie, the rosy22, laughter-loving, youngest princess with the mole23, watched him. She smiled, hid her face in her handkerchief, and remained with it hidden for awhile; then looking up and seeing Pierre she again began to laugh. She evidently felt unable to look at him without laughing, but could not resist looking at him: so to be out of temptation she slipped quietly behind one of the columns. In the midst of the service the voices of the priests suddenly ceased, they whispered to one another, and the old servant who was holding the count’s hand got up and said something to the ladies. Anna Mikhaylovna stepped forward and, stooping over the dying man, beckoned24 to Lorrain from behind her back. The French doctor held no taper; he was leaning against one of the columns in a respectful attitude implying that he, a foreigner, in spite of all differences of faith, understood the full importance of the rite25 now being performed and even approved of it. He now approached the sick man with the noiseless step of one in full vigor26 of life, with his delicate white fingers raised from the green quilt the hand that was free, and turning sideways felt the pulse and reflected a moment. The sick man was given something to drink, there was a stir around him, then the people resumed their places and the service continued. During this interval18 Pierre noticed that Prince Vasili left the chair on which he had been leaning, and — with air which intimated that he knew what he was about and if others did not understand him it was so much the worse for them — did not go up to the dying man, but passed by him, joined the eldest princess, and moved with her to the side of the room where stood the high bedstead with its silken hangings. On leaving the bed both Prince Vasili and the princess passed out by a back door, but returned to their places one after the other before the service was concluded. Pierre paid no more attention to this occurrence than to the rest of what went on, having made up his mind once for all that what he saw happening around him that evening was in some way essential.
The chanting of the service ceased, and the voice of the priest was heard respectfully congratulating the dying man on having received the sacrament. The dying man lay as lifeless and immovable as before. Around him everyone began to stir: steps were audible and whispers, among which Anna Mikhaylovna’s was the most distinct.
Pierre heard her say:
“Certainly he must be moved onto the bed; here it will be impossible . . . ”
The sick man was so surrounded by doctors, princesses, and servants that Pierre could no longer see the reddish-yellow face with its gray mane — which, though he saw other faces as well, he had not lost sight of for a single moment during the whole service. He judged by the cautious movements of those who crowded round the invalid chair that they had lifted the dying man and were moving him.
“Catch hold of my arm or you’ll drop him!” he heard one of the servants say in a frightened whisper. “Catch hold from underneath27. Here!” exclaimed different voices; and the heavy breathing of the bearers and the shuffling of their feet grew more hurried, as if the weight they were carrying were too much for them.
As the bearers, among whom was Anna Mikhaylovna, passed the young man he caught a momentary28 glimpse between their heads and backs of the dying man’s high, stout29, uncovered chest and powerful shoulders, raised by those who were holding him under the armpits, and of his gray, curly, leonine head. This head, with its remarkably30 broad brow and cheekbones, its handsome, sensual mouth, and its cold, majestic expression, was not disfigured by the approach of death. It was the same as Pierre remembered it three months before, when the count had sent him to Petersburg. But now this head was swaying helplessly with the uneven31 movements of the bearers, and the cold listless gaze fixed itself upon nothing.
After a few minutes’ bustle32 beside the high bedstead, those who had carried the sick man dispersed33. Anna Mikhaylovna touched Pierre’s hand and said, “Come.” Pierre went with her to the bed on which the sick man had been laid in a stately pose in keeping with the ceremony just completed. He lay with his head propped34 high on the pillows. His hands were symmetrically placed on the green silk quilt, the palms downward. When Pierre came up the count was gazing straight at him, but with a look the significance of which could not be understood by mortal man. Either this look meant nothing but that as long as one has eyes they must look somewhere, or it meant too much. Pierre hesitated, not knowing what to do, and glanced inquiringly at his guide. Anna Mikhaylovna made a hurried sign with her eyes, glancing at the sick man’s hand and moving her lips as if to send it a kiss. Pierre, carefully stretching his neck so as not to touch the quilt, followed her suggestion and pressed his lips to the large boned, fleshy hand. Neither the hand nor a single muscle of the count’s face stirred. Once more Pierre looked questioningly at Anna Mikhaylovna to see what he was to do next. Anna Mikhaylovna with her eyes indicated a chair that stood beside the bed. Pierre obediently sat down, his eyes asking if he were doing right. Anna Mikhaylovna nodded approvingly. Again Pierre fell into the naively35 symmetrical pose of an Egyptian statue, evidently distressed36 that his stout and clumsy body took up so much room and doing his utmost to look as small as possible. He looked at the count, who still gazed at the spot where Pierre’s face had been before he sat down. Anna Mikhaylovna indicated by her attitude her consciousness of the pathetic importance of these last moments of meeting between the father and son. This lasted about two minutes, which to Pierre seemed an hour. Suddenly the broad muscles and lines of the count’s face began to twitch37. The twitching38 increased, the handsome mouth was drawn39 to one side (only now did Pierre realize how near death his father was), and from that distorted mouth issued an indistinct, hoarse40 sound. Anna Mikhaylovna looked attentively41 at the sick man’s eyes, trying to guess what he wanted; she pointed42 first to Pierre, then to some drink, then named Prince Vasili in an inquiring whisper, then pointed to the quilt. The eyes and face of the sick man showed impatience43. He made an effort to look at the servant who stood constantly at the head of the bed.
“Wants to turn on the other side,” whispered the servant, and got up to turn the count’s heavy body toward the wall.
Pierre rose to help him.
While the count was being turned over, one of his arms fell back helplessly and he made a fruitless effort to pull it forward. Whether he noticed the look of terror with which Pierre regarded that lifeless arm, or whether some other thought flitted across his dying brain, at any rate he glanced at the refractory44 arm, at Pierre’s terror-stricken face, and again at the arm, and on his face a feeble, piteous smile appeared, quite out of keeping with his features, that seemed to deride45 his own helplessness. At sight of this smile Pierre felt an unexpected quivering in his breast and a tickling46 in his nose, and tears dimmed his eyes. The sick man was turned on to his side with his face to the wall. He sighed.
“He is dozing,” said Anna Mikhaylovna, observing that one of the princesses was coming to take her turn at watching. “Let us go.”
Pierre went out.
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1
icons
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| n.偶像( icon的名词复数 )；（计算机屏幕上表示命令、程序的）符号，图像 | |
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2
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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3
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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4
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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6
taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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7
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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9
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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10
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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13
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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14
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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15
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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16
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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17
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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18
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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19
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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20
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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21
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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22
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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23
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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24
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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26
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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27
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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28
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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29
stout
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| adj.强壮的，粗大的，结实的，勇猛的，矮胖的 | |
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30
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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31
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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32
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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33
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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34
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
naively
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| adv. 天真地 | |
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36
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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37
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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38
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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39
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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40
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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41
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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42
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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43
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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44
refractory
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| adj.倔强的，难驾驭的 | |
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45
deride
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| v.嘲弄，愚弄 | |
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46
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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