opinion of her own on the subject.
‘Ah, madam, it is a great sacrament, ‘replied the priest,
passing his hand over the thin grizzled strands of hair
combed back across his bald head.
‘Who was that? The Military Governor himself?’ was being asked at the other side of the room. ‘How young-looking
he is!’
‘Yes, and he is over sixty. I hear the count no longer recognizes anyone. They wished to administer the sacrament
of unction.’
126
War and Peace
‘I knew someone who received that sacrament seven
times.’
The second princess had just come from the sickroom
with her eyes red from weeping and sat down beside Dr.
Lorrain, who was sitting in a graceful pose under a portrait
of Catherine, leaning his elbow on a table.
‘Beautiful,’ said the doctor in answer to a remark about
the weather. ‘The weather is beautiful, Princess; and besides,
in Moscow one feels as if one were in the country.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ replied the princess with a sigh. ‘So he may
have something to drink?’
Lorrain considered.
‘Has he taken his medicine?’
‘Yes.’
The doctor glanced at his watch.
‘Take a glass of boiled water and put a pinch of cream of
tartar,’ and he indicated with his delicate fingers what he
meant by a pinch.
‘Dere has neffer been a gase,’ a German doctor was saying to an aide-de-camp, ‘dat one liffs after de sird stroke.’
‘And what a well-preserved man he was!’ remarked the
aide-de-camp. ‘And who will inherit his wealth?’ he added
in a whisper.
‘It von’t go begging,’ replied the German with a smile.
Everyone again looked toward the door, which creaked
as the second princess went in with the drink she had prepared according to Lorrain’s instructions. The German
doctor went up to Lorrain.
‘Do you think he can last till morning?’ asked the Ger
127
man, addressing Lorrain in French which he pronounced
badly.
Lorrain, pursing up his lips, waved a severely negative
finger before his nose.
‘Tonight, not later,’ said he in a low voice, and he moved
away with a decorous smile of self-satisfaction at being able
clearly to understand and state the patient’s condition.
Meanwhile Prince Vasili had opened the door into the
princess’ room.
In this room it was almost dark; only two tiny lamps were
burning before the icons and there was a pleasant scent of
flowers and burnt pastilles. The room was crowded with
small pieces of furniture, whatnots, cupboards, and little
tables. The quilt of a high, white feather bed was just visible
behind a screen. A small dog began to bark.
‘Ah, is it you, cousin?’
She rose and smoothed her hair, which was as usual so
extremely smooth that it seemed to be made of one piece
with her head and covered with varnish.
‘Has anything happened?’ she asked. ‘I am so terrified.’
‘No, there is no change. I only came to have a talk about
business, Catiche,’* muttered the prince, seating himself
wearily on the chair she had just vacated. ‘You have made
the place warm, I must say,’ he remarked. ‘Well, sit down:
let’s have a talk.’
*Catherine.
‘I thought perhaps something had happened,’ she said
with her unchanging stonily severe expression; and, sitting
down opposite the prince, she prepared to listen.
128
War and Peace
‘I wished to get a nap, mon cousin, but I can’t.’
‘Well, my dear?’ said Prince Vasili, taking her hand and
bending it downwards as was his habit.
It was plain that this ‘well?’ referred to much that they
both understood without naming.
The princess, who had a straight, rigid body, abnormally
long for her legs, looked directly at Prince Vasili with no
sign of emotion in her prominent gray eyes. Then she shook
her head and glanced up at the icons with a sigh. This might
have been taken as an expression of sorrow and devotion, or
of weariness and hope of resting before long. Prince Vasili
understood it as an expression of weariness.
‘And I?’ he said; ‘do you think it is easier for me? I am
as worn out as a post horse, but still I must have a talk with
you, Catiche, a very serious talk.’
Prince Vasili said no more and his cheeks began to
twitch nervously, now on one side, now on the other, giving his face an unpleasant expression which was never to be
seen on it in a drawing room. His eyes too seemed strange;
at one moment they looked impudently sly and at the next
glanced round in alarm.
The princess, holding her little dog on her lap with her
thin bony hands, looked attentively into Prince Vasili’s eyes
evidently resolved not to be the first to break silence, if she
had to wait till morning.
‘Well, you see, my dear princess and cousin, Catherine Semenovna,’ continued Prince Vasili, returning to his
theme, apparently not without an inner struggle; ‘at such
a moment as this one must think of everything. One must
129
think of the future, of all of you… I love you all, like children
of my own, as you know.’
The princess continued to look at him without moving,
and with the same dull expression.
‘And then of course my family has also to be considered,’ Prince Vasili went on, testily pushing away a little
table without looking at her. ‘You know, Catiche, that weyou three sisters, Mamontov, and my wifeare the count’s only
direct heirs. I know, I know how hard it is for you to talk or
think of such matters. It is no easier for me; but, my dear, I
am getting on for sixty and must be prepared for anything.
Do you know I have sent for Pierre? The count,’ pointing to
his portrait, ‘definitely demanded that he should be called.’
Prince Vasili looked questioningly at the princess, but
could not make out whether she was considering what he
had just said or whether she was simply looking at him.
‘There is one thing I constantly pray God to grant, mon
cousin,’ she replied, ‘and it is that He would be merciful
to him and would allow his noble soul peacefully to leave
this..’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ interrupted Prince Vasili impatiently, rubbing his bald head and angrily pulling back toward
him the little table that he had pushed away. ‘But… in short,
the fact is… you know yourself that last winter the count
made a will by which he left all his property, not to us his
direct heirs, but to Pierre.’
‘He has made wills enough!’ quietly remarked the princess. ‘But he cannot leave the estate to Pierre. Pierre is
illegitimate.’
130
War and Peace
‘But, my dear,’ said Prince Vasili suddenly, clutching the
little table and becoming more animated and talking more
rapidly: ‘what if a letter has been written to the Emperor in
which the count asks for Pierre’s legitimation? Do you understand that in consideration of the count’s services, his
request would be granted?..’
The princess smiled as people do who think they know
more about the subject under discussion than those they are
talking with.
‘I can tell you more,’ continued Prince Vasili, seizing her
hand, ‘that letter was written, though it was not sent, and
the Emperor knew of it. The only question is, has it been destroyed or not? If not, then as soon as all is over,’ and Prince
Vasili sighed to intimate what he meant by the words all is
over, ‘and the count’s papers are opened, the will and letter will be delivered to the Emperor, and the petition will
certainly be granted. Pierre will get everything as the legitimate son.’
‘And our share?’ asked the princess smiling ironically, as
if anything might happen, only not that.
‘But, my poor Catiche, it is as clear as daylight! He will
then be the legal heir to everything and you won’t get anything. You must know, my dear, whether the will and letter
were written, and whether they have been destroyed or not.
And if they have somehow been overlooked, you ought to
know where they are, and must find them, because..’
‘What next?’ the princess interrupted, smiling sardonically and not changing the expression of her eyes. ‘I am a
woman, and you think we are all stupid; but I know this: an
131
illegitimate son cannot inherit… un batard!’* she added, as if
supposing that this translation of the word would effectively
prove to Prince Vasili the invalidity of his contention.
A bastard. ‘Well, really, Catiche! Can’t you understand! You are so intelligent, how is it you don’t see that if the count has written a letter to the Emperor begging him to recognize Pierre as legitimate, it follows that Pierre will not be Pierre but will become Count Bezukhov, and will then inherit everything under the will? And if the will and letter are not destroyed, then you will have nothing but the consolation of having been dutiful et tout ce qui s’ensuit! That’s certain.’
*And all that follows therefrom.
‘I know the will was made, but I also know that it is invalid; and you, mon cousin, seem to consider me a perfect
fool,’ said the princess with the expression women assume
when they suppose they are saying something witty and
stinging.
‘My dear Princess Catherine Semenovna,’ began Prince
Vasili impatiently, ‘I came here not to wrangle with you, but
to talk about your interests as with a kinswoman, a good,
kind, true relation. And I tell you for the tenth time that if
the letter to the Emperor and the will in Pierre’s favor are
among the count’s papers, then, my dear girl, you and your
sisters are not heiresses! If you don’t believe me, then believe
an expert. I have just been talking to Dmitri Onufrich’ (the
family solicitor) ‘and he says the same.’
At this a sudden change evidently took place in the princess’ ideas; her thin lips grew white, though her eyes did
132
War and Peace
not change, and her voice when she began to speak passed
through such transitions as she herself evidently did not expect.
‘That would be a fine thing!’ said she. ‘I never wanted
anything and I don’t now.’
She pushed the little dog off her lap and smoothed her
dress.
‘And this is gratitudethis is recognition for those who
have sacrificed everything for his sake!’ she cried. ‘It’s splendid! Fine! I don’t want anything, Prince.’
‘Yes, but you are not the only one. There are your sisters…’ replied Prince Vasili.
But the princess did not listen to him.
‘Yes, I knew it long ago but had forgotten.
