War And Peace

‘If only you had told me, Mama, I would have gone away ages ago,’ she said, and went off to her room. But passing by the sitting-room, she noticed two couples arranged symmetrically in front of two windows. She stopped and gave a contemptuous smile. Sonya was sitting close by Nikolay, who was copying out some poetry for her, the first he had ever written. Boris and Natasha were sitting by another window, and they stopped speaking when Vera came in. Sonya and Natasha looked at Vera with guilty, happy faces.

It was amusing and quite touching to see these lovesick little girls, but the sight of them didn’t seem to arouse any pleasant feelings in Vera. ‘How many times have I asked you,’ she said, ‘not to take my things? You have rooms of your own.’ She took the inkstand away from Nikolay.

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ he said, dipping his pen in.

‘You have no sense of timing,’ said Vera. ‘Trust you to come rushing into the drawing-room and embarrass everybody.’ Despite her being in the right, or perhaps because of that, nobody answered, and the four of them simply looked at one another. She lingered in the room, holding the inkstand. ‘And what secrets can you have at your age, Natasha and Boris? And you two! Stupid nonsense!’

‘What’s it got to do with you, Vera?’ said Natasha in their defence, speaking very softly. Today she seemed to be sweeter and nicer than ever to them all.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Vera; ‘I’m ashamed of you. What kind of secrets . . .’

‘Everybody has secrets. We don’t interfere with you and Berg,’ said Natasha, getting angry.

‘I should think not,’ said Vera, ‘because there is nothing wrong in anything I do. But I shall tell Mama how you behave with Boris.’

‘Natalya behaves perfectly well with me,’ said Boris. ‘I have no complaint.’

‘Oh, shut up, Boris, you’re such a diplomat.’ (‘Diplomat’ was a catchword with the children, who had given it their own special meaning.) ‘I’m fed up with this,’ said Natasha, her voice trembling with resentment, ‘why does she always pick on me? You’ll never understand,’ she said to Vera, ‘because you’ve never been in love, you’ve no heart, you’re just a Madame de Genlis’²¹ (this nickname, bestowed on Vera by Nikolay, was intended to be very insulting) ‘and nothing gives you more pleasure than being nasty to other people. You can flirt with Berg as much as you like,’ she said quickly.

‘Well, one thing I won’t do is go running after a young man in front of visitors . . .’

‘Now she’s got what she wanted,’ Nikolay put in. ‘She’s said nasty things to everybody, and upset us all. Let’s go to the nursery.’

All four rose like a startled flock of birds and left the room.

‘You said nasty things to me. I didn’t say anything nasty to anybody,’ said Vera.

‘Madame de Genlis! Madame de Genlis!’ cried their laughing voices through the door.

This beautiful girl who had caused so much offence and unpleasantness to them all smiled, and, evidently quite indifferent to what had been said to her, she went over to the mirror and tidied her scarf and hair. One look at her own lovely face and she seemed to grow colder and more composed than ever.

In the drawing-room they were still talking.

‘Alas, my dear,’ said the countess, ‘my path is not strewn with roses either. Do you think I can’t see that, the way things are going, our fortune won’t last much longer? With him it’s the club and being generous to everyone. When we’re in the country do you think we get any rest? Theatricals, hunting parties, heaven knows what else. But let’s not talk about me. Come on, tell me how you managed it. Annette, you amaze me, the way you go galloping off in your carriage, on your own, at your age, to Moscow, Petersburg, seeing all those ministers and important people, and you certainly know how to get round them. You amaze me. Well, how did you manage it? All this is beyond me.’

‘Oh, my dear!’ answered Princess Anna Mikhaylovna. ‘God willing, you’ll never know what it’s like to be left a widow, with no one to support you and a son you love to distraction. You just learn how to get by,’ she said with some pride. ‘My lawsuit has taught me a good deal. If I want to see one of these bigwigs, I send them a note: “Princess X desires to meet Minister Y,” and I go myself in a cab two or three times – maybe four or five – until I get what I want. I don’t care what people think about me.’

‘Well, come on, whom did you talk to about your little Boris?’ asked the countess. ‘Your boy’s a guards officer now, and my little Nikolay’s going in as a cadet. We have no one to put a word in for him. But whom did you ask?’

‘Prince Vasily. He was so kind. He agreed to everything straightaway, and then he put it to the Emperor,’ said Princess Anna Mikhaylovna with some delight, forgetting all the humiliation she had gone through to get what she wanted.