War And Peace

‘That’s what I keep on saying,’ she said. ‘I can’t understand it, I simply can’t understand why men can’t get by without war. Why is it we women don’t want anything to do with it, don’t need it? You can be the judge of this. I keep saying to him: here he is, one of uncle’s adjutants, a brilliant position to be in. Everybody knows him, everybody admires him. Only the other day at the Apraksins’ I heard one lady say, “Is that the famous Prince Andrey?” I swear it’s true!’ She laughed. ‘He gets invited everywhere. He could easily end up in the royal entourage. You know the Emperor has spoken very graciously to him. Annette and I were just saying how easy it would be to arrange. What do you think?’

One glance at Prince Andrey told Pierre his friend didn’t like this subject, so he said nothing.

‘When are you off?’ he asked.

‘Oh, please don’t talk to me about his going away, not that. I won’t have it spoken about,’ said the princess in the same tone, all silly and playful, that she had used with Hippolyte at the party, quite out of place within the family circle – and Pierre was almost one of the family. ‘Today, when I suddenly thought of all these dear friendships that will have to be broken off . . . Besides, you know what, Andrey?’ She flashed a meaningful look at her husband. ‘I’m scared! I am scared!’ she whispered, with a sudden shudder. Her husband glanced at her as if he was surprised to find someone else in the room other than himself and Pierre, but he questioned her with icy politeness.

‘What is it you’re scared of, Liza? I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘See how selfish men are, all of them. Every one of them selfish! Just because he fancies it, heaven knows why, he’s leaving me, shutting me away all on my own in the country.’

‘With my father and my sister, don’t forget,’ said Prince Andrey quietly.

‘I’ll still be on my own. My friends won’t be there . . . And he tells me not to be scared.’ Her tone was plaintive now, and her lip curled into a sneer, which made her look anything but happy, rather like a wild animal, squirrel-like and nasty. She said no more, as if it seemed wrong to talk about her pregnancy while Pierre was there, though that was what this was all about.

‘I still don’t understand what it is you’re scared of,’ Prince Andrey said deliberately, without taking his eyes off his wife. The princess blushed, and waved her hands in despair.

‘No, André, I tell you this: you’ve changed. You really have . . .’

‘The doctor says you shouldn’t be late getting to bed,’ said Prince Andrey. ‘You ought to get some sleep.’

The princess said nothing, but suddenly her tiny, downy lip began to tremble. Prince Andrey got to his feet, gave a shrug and started pacing up and down.

Pierre glanced over his spectacles from one to the other in naive wonderment, squirming as if he too had meant to get up, but had thought better of it.

‘I don’t care if Monsieur Pierre is here,’ said the little princess suddenly, her pretty face contorted into a tearful grimace. ‘I’ve been wanting to ask you, Andrey – why have you changed so much towards me? What have I done to you? You’re going off into the army, and you won’t listen. Why not?’

‘Liza!’ Prince Andrey spoke only a single word, but it contained a request, a threat and – clearest of all – an assurance that she would live to regret these words. Nevertheless, she went on hurriedly to say, ‘You treat me like an invalid, or a child. I can see it all. You weren’t like this six months ago, were you?’

‘Liza, I’m asking you to stop,’ said Prince Andrey, more meaningfully still.

Pierre had been growing more and more agitated during this conversation, and now he got to his feet and walked over to the princess. Clearly the sight of her weeping was too much for him, and he was on the point of tears himself.

‘Please don’t be so upset, Princess. I know how it seems to you . . . honestly, I’ve been through it myself . . . because . . . er, what I mean is . . . No, sorry, you don’t want other people . . . Oh, please don’t be so upset . . . I must go.’

Prince Andrey caught him by the arm and stopped him.

‘No, wait, Pierre. The princess is very kind. She wouldn’t want to deprive me of the pleasure of spending an evening with you.’

‘No, he’s just thinking about himself,’ the princess declared, with no attempt to check her bitter tears.

‘Liza,’ said Prince Andrey sharply, raising his voice to a level that declared his patience to be at an end.

All at once the princess’s lovely little face changed its angry squirrel-like expression into a look of fear that made her seem both beautiful and sympathetic. She frowned and glared, directing her lovely eyes at her husband, but her face wore the timid, apologetic look of a dog wagging its drooping tail quickly but without much confidence.

‘Oh, good Lord!’ murmured the princess, and with one hand holding her gown she walked over to her husband and gave him a kiss on the forehead.