War And Peace

‘You did promise, my dear,’ she said, turning again to her son and urging him on with a touch on the arm. Eyes down, the son walked on quietly behind her.

They entered a huge room, from which a door led to the apartments assigned to Prince Vasily.

Just as mother and son reached the middle of the room and were about to ask directions from an old footman who had jumped up when they came in, a bronze handle of one of the doors turned, and out came Prince Vasily, dressed in a velvet house jacket with a star on the breast, accompanied by a handsome man with black hair. This was the celebrated Petersburg physician Dr Lorrain.

‘It is positive, then?’ the prince was saying.

‘Prince, errare humanum est,’

²³ answered the doctor, lisping the Latin words in a French accent.

‘Very well, very well . . .’

When he saw Anna Mikhaylovna and her son, Prince Vasily dismissed the doctor with a bow, and came over to meet them, in silence and with a questioning look. The son watched as his mother’s eyes switched on an expression of profound sadness, and he gave a slight smile.

‘Yes, we meet again, Prince, but in what sad circumstances . . . And how is our dear invalid?’ she said, seeming not to notice the frigid, offensive glance that was levelled at her. Nonplussed, Prince Vasily stared at her, then at Boris, with a look of inquiry. Boris bowed politely. Prince Vasily ignored his bow, turned to Anna Mikhaylovna and responded to her question by shaking his head and pursing his lips, all of which suggested little hope for the patient.

‘Can it be true?’ cried Anna Mikhaylovna ‘Oh, this is terrible! It doesn’t bear thinking about . . . This is my son,’ she added, indicating Boris. ‘He wanted to thank you in person.’

Boris made another polite bow.

‘Believe me, Prince, a mother’s heart will never forget what you have done for us.’

‘I am pleased to have been of service, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna,’ said Prince Vasily, straightening the frill on his shirt, and exuding in voice and manner here in Moscow (for the benefit of Anna Mikhaylovna, who was under an obligation to him) even more gravitas than at Anna Pavlovna’s soirée in St Petersburg.

‘Try to do your duty and be a worthy soldier,’ he added, turning severely to him. ‘I’m so pleased . . . Are you here on leave?’ he asked in his offhand way.

‘I am awaiting orders, your Excellency, to embark upon my new assignment,’ answered Boris, with no sign of resentment at the prince’s abrasive tone, nor any desire to get into conversation, but he spoke with such calmness and courtesy that the prince gave him a close look.

‘I suppose you’re living with your mother?’

‘I’m living at Countess Rostov’s,’ said Boris, not forgetting to add ‘your Excellency’.

‘That’s Ilya Rostov, who married Natalya Shinshin,’ said Anna Mikhaylovna.

‘Yes, I’m well aware of that,’ said Prince Vasily in his dull monotone. ‘I’ve never been able to understand how Natalie Shinshin came to marry that half-licked cub. A completely stupid and ridiculous person. And a gambler, so they say.’

‘But a very kind man, Prince,’ observed Anna Mikhaylovna, with a persuasive smile, as though she knew full well that Count Rostov deserved these strictures, but begged him not to be too hard on the poor old man.

‘What do the doctors say?’ asked the princess, after a brief pause, and the expression of profound sadness reappeared on her careworn face.

‘There is little hope,’ said the prince.

‘And I did so want to thank our uncle once more for all his many kindnesses to me and to Boris. He is his godson,’ she added rather as if this news ought to please Prince Vasily beyond measure.

Prince Vasily thought for a moment and frowned. Anna Mikhaylovna saw he was afraid she might have a rival claim on Count Bezukhov’s will, so she hastened to put his mind at ease. ‘If it were not for my genuine love and devotion for Uncle . . .’ she said, uttering the last word casually and yet with some emphasis, ‘I know what he’s like, so generous and upright, but with only the princesses about him . . . They are so young . . .’ She bent forward and added in a whisper: ‘Has he performed his last duty,²⁴ Prince? Those last moments, they are priceless! Things couldn’t be worse, it seems. It is absolutely necessary to prepare him, if he is as bad as all that. We women, Prince,’ she smiled tenderly, ‘always know how to say these things. I really must see him, however painful it may be. But then, I am used to suffering.’

It seemed to dawn on the prince, as it had done at Anna Pavlovna’s, that Anna Mikhaylovna was extremely difficult to get rid of.

‘Do you not think that such a meeting might be too much for him, my dear Anna Mikhaylovna?’ he asked. ‘Let’s wait till tonight. The doctors think the crisis is due.’

‘There can be no question of waiting, Prince, at a time like this. Don’t forget, it is a matter of saving his soul. Ah! One’s Christian duty is a terrible thing.’