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War and Peace
words of his favorite song: native and
birch tree and my heart is sick occurred in it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of it. He
did not, and could not, understand the meaning of words
apart from their context. Every word and action of his was
the manifestation of an activity unknown to him, which
was his life. But his life, as he regarded it, had no meaning
as a separate thing. It had meaning only as part of a whole
of which he was always conscious. His words and actions

1825

flowed from him as evenly, inevitably, and spontaneously as
fragrance exhales from a flower. He could not understand
the value or significance of any word or deed taken separately.

1826

War and Peace

Chapter XIV
When Princess Mary heard from Nicholas that her brother was with the Rostovs at Yaroslavl she at once prepared
to go there, in spite of her aunt’s efforts to dissuade herand
not merely to go herself but to take her nephew with her.
Whether it were difficult or easy, possible or impossible, she
did not ask and did not want to know: it was her duty not
only herself to be near her brother who was perhaps dying,
but to do everything possible to take his son to him, and so
she prepared to set off. That she had not heard from Prince
Andrew himself, Princess Mary attributed to his being too
weak to write or to his considering the long journey too
hard and too dangerous for her and his son.
In a few days Princess Mary was ready to start. Her equipages were the huge family coach in which she had traveled
to Voronezh, a semiopen trap, and a baggage cart. With her
traveled Mademoiselle Bourienne, little Nicholas and his
tutor, her old nurse, three maids, Tikhon, and a young footman and courier her aunt had sent to accompany her.
The usual route through Moscow could not be thought
of, and the roundabout way Princess Mary was obliged to
take through Lipetsk, Ryazan, Vladimir, and Shuya was
very long and, as post horses were not everywhere obtainable, very difficult, and near Ryazan where the French were
said to have shown themselves was even dangerous.

1827

During this difficult journey Mademoiselle Bourienne,
Dessalles, and Princess Mary’s servants were astonished at
her energy and firmness of spirit. She went to bed later and
rose earlier than any of them, and no difficulties daunted
her. Thanks to her activity and energy, which infected her
fellow travelers, they approached Yaroslavl by the end of the
second week.
The last days of her stay in Voronezh had been the happiest of her life. Her love for Rostov no longer tormented
or agitated her. It filled her whole soul, had become an integral part of herself, and she no longer struggled against
it. Latterly she had become convinced that she loved and
was beloved, though she never said this definitely to herself in words. She had become convinced of it at her last
interview with Nicholas, when he had come to tell her that
her brother was with the Rostovs. Not by a single word had
Nicholas alluded to the fact that Prince Andrew’s relations
with Natasha might, if he recovered, be renewed, but Princess Mary saw by his face that he knew and thought of this.
Yet in spite of that, his relation to herconsiderate, delicate, and lovingnot only remained unchanged, but it
sometimes seemed to Princess Mary that he was even glad
that the family connection between them allowed him to
express his friendship more freely. She knew that she loved
for the first and only time in her life and felt that she was
beloved, and was happy in regard to it.
But this happiness on one side of her spiritual nature did
not prevent her feeling grief for her brother with full force;
on the contrary, that spiritual tranquility on the one side
1828

War and Peace

made it the more possible for her to give full play to her
feeling for her brother. That feeling was so strong at the moment of leaving Voronezh that those who saw her off, as they
looked at her careworn, despairing face, felt sure she would
fall ill on the journey. But the very difficulties and preoccupations of the journey, which she took so actively in hand,
saved her for a while from her grief and gave her strength.
As always happens when traveling, Princess Mary
thought only of the journey itself, forgetting its object. But
as she approached Yaroslavl the thought of what might
await her therenot after many days, but that very eveningagain presented itself to her and her agitation increased to
its utmost limit.
The courier who had been sent on in advance to find out
where the Rostovs were staying in Yaroslavl, and in what
condition Prince Andrew was, when he met the big coach
just entering the town gates was appalled by the terrible
pallor of the princess’ face that looked out at him from the
window.
‘I have found out everything, your excellency: the Rostovs are staying at the merchant Bronnikov’s house, in the
Square not far from here, right above the Volga,’ said the
courier.
Princess Mary looked at him with frightened inquiry,
not understanding why he did not reply to what she chiefly
wanted to know: how was her brother? Mademoiselle Bourienne put that question for her.
‘How is the prince?’ she asked.
‘His excellency is staying in the same house with them.’

1829

‘Then he is alive,’ thought Princess Mary, and asked in a
low voice: ‘How is he?’
‘The servants say he is still the same.’
What ‘still the same’ might mean Princess Mary did not
ask, but with an unnoticed glance at little seven-year-old
Nicholas, who was sitting in front of her looking with pleasure at the town, she bowed her head and did not raise it
again till the heavy coach, rumbling, shaking and swaying,
came to a stop. The carriage steps clattered as they were let
down.
The carriage door was opened. On the left there was watera great riverand on the right a porch. There were people
at the entrance: servants, and a rosy girl with a large plait
of black hair, smiling as it seemed to Princess Mary in an
unpleasantly affected way. (This was Sonya.) Princess Mary
ran up the steps. ‘This way, this way!’ said the girl, with the
same artificial smile, and the princess found herself in the
hall facing an elderly woman of Oriental type, who came
rapidly to meet her with a look of emotion. This was the
countess. She embraced Princess Mary and kissed her.
‘Mon enfant!’ she muttered, ‘je vous aime et vous connais depuis longtemps.’*
*”My child! I love you and have known you a long time.’
Despite her excitement, Princess Mary realized that this
was the countess and that it was necessary to say something
to her. Hardly knowing how she did it, she contrived to utter a few polite phrases in French in the same tone as those
that had been addressed to her, and asked: ‘How is he?’
‘The doctor says that he is not in danger,’ said the count1830

War and Peace

ess, but as she spoke she raised her eyes with a sigh, and her
gesture conveyed a contradiction of her words.
‘Where is he? Can I see himcan I?’ asked the princess.
‘One moment, Princess, one moment, my dear! Is this
his son?’ said the countess, turning to little Nicholas who
was coming in with Dessalles. ‘There will be room for everybody, this is a big house. Oh, what a lovely boy!’
The countess took Princess Mary into the drawing room,
where Sonya was talking to Mademoiselle Bourienne. The
countess caressed the boy, and the old count came in and
welcomed the princess. He had changed very much since
Princess Mary had last seen him. Then he had been a brisk,
cheerful, self-assured old man; now he seemed a pitiful,
bewildered person. While talking to Princess Mary he continually looked round as if asking everyone whether he was
doing the right thing. After the destruction of Moscow and
of his property, thrown out of his accustomed groove he
seemed to have lost the sense of his own significance and to
feel that there was no longer a place for him in life.
In spite of her one desire to see her brother as soon as
possible, and her vexation that at the moment when all she
wanted was to see him they should be trying to entertain
her and pretending to admire her nephew, the princess noticed all that was going on around her and felt the necessity
of submitting, for a time, to this new order of things which
she had entered. She knew it to be necessary, and though it
was hard for her she was not vexed with these people.
‘This is my niece,’ said the count, introducing Sonya‘You
don’t know her, Princess?’

1831

Princess Mary turned to Sonya and, trying to stifle the
hostile feeling that arose in her toward the girl, she kissed
her. But she felt oppressed by the fact that the mood of everyone around her was so far from what was in her own
heart.
‘Where is he?’ she asked again, addressing them all.
‘He is downstairs. Natasha is with him,’ answered Sonya,
flushing. ‘We have sent to ask. I think you must be tired,
Princess.’
Tears of vexation showed themselves in Princess Mary’s
eyes. She turned away and was about to ask the countess
again how to go to him, when light, impetuous, and seemingly buoyant steps were heard at the door. The princess
looked round and saw Natasha coming in, almost runningthat Natasha whom she had liked so little at their
meeting in Moscow long since.
But hardly had the princess looked at Natasha’s face before she realized that here was a real comrade in her grief,
and consequently a friend. She ran to meet her, embraced
her, and began to cry on her shoulder.
As soon as Natasha, sitting at the head of Prince Andrew’s bed, heard of Princess Mary’s arrival, she softly left
his room and hastened to her with those swift steps that had
sounded buoyant to Princess Mary.
There was only one expression on her agitated face when
she ran into the drawing roomthat of loveboundless love for
him, for her, and for all that was near

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words of his favorite song: native andbirch tree and my heart is sick occurred in it, but when spoken and not sung, no meaning could be got out of it.