Texts
Book 8 References
Natásha was standing in the middle of the drawing room, emaciated, with a pale set face, but not at all shamefaced as Pierre expected to find her. When he appeared at the door she grew flurried, evidently undecided whether to go to meet him or to wait till he came up.
Pierre hastened to her. He thought she would give him her hand as usual; but she, stepping up to him, stopped, breathing heavily, her arms hanging lifelessly just in the pose she used to stand in when she went to the middle of the ballroom to sing, but with quite a different expression of face.
Peter Kirílovich, she began rapidly, Prince Bolkónski was your friend—is your friend, she corrected herself. (It seemed to her that everything that had once been must now be different.) He told me once to apply to you...
Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but did not speak. Till then he had reproached her in his heart and tried to despise her, but he now felt so sorry for her that there was no room in his soul for reproach.
He is here now: tell him... to for... forgive me! She stopped and breathed still more quickly, but did not shed tears. Yes... I will tell him, answered Pierre; but...
No, I know all is over, she said hurriedly. No, that can never be. I’m only tormented by the wrong I have done him. Tell him only that I beg him to forgive, forgive, forgive me for everything....
I will tell him, I will tell him everything once more, said Pierre. But... I should like to know one thing....
I should like to know, did you love... Pierre did not know how to refer to Anatole and flushed at the thought of him—did you love that bad man? Don’t call him bad! said Natásha. But I don’t know, don’t know at all....
She began to cry and a still greater sense of pity, tenderness, and love welled up in Pierre. He felt the tears trickle under his spectacles and hoped they would not be noticed.
We won’t speak of it any more, my dear, said Pierre, and his gentle, cordial tone suddenly seemed very strange to Natásha. We won’t speak of it, my dear—I’ll tell him everything; but one thing I beg of you, consider me your friend and if you want help, advice, or simply to open your heart to someone—not now, but when your mind is clearer--think of me! He took her hand and kissed it. I shall be happy if it’s in my power...
Pierre grew confused. Don’t speak to me like that. I am not worth it! exclaimed Natásha and turned to leave the room, but Pierre held her hand.
Stop, stop! You have your whole life before you, said he to her. Before me? No! All is over for me, she replied with shame and self-abasement. All over? he repeated. If I were not myself, but the handsomest, cleverest, and best man in the world, and were free, I would this moment ask on my knees for your hand and your love! For the first time for many days Natásha wept tears of gratitude and tenderness, and glancing at Pierre she went out of the room.
Pierre too when she had gone almost ran into the anteroom, restraining tears of tenderness and joy that choked him, and without finding the sleeves of his fur cloak threw it on and got into his sleigh.
Home! said Pierre, and despite twenty-two degrees of frost Fahrenheit he threw open the bearskin cloak from his broad chest and inhaled the air with joy.
Pierre and Natasha
Featured Characters: PIERRE, NATASHA
[PIERRE]
Natasha was standing
In the
middle of the drawing room
With a pale yet steady face
When I appeared in the doorway
She grew flustered and I hurried to her
I thought that she would give me
her hand
But instead she stopped
Breathing heavily
Her
thin arms hanging lifelessly
Just in the very pose
She used to stand in as a young girl
When she went to the middle of the ballroom to sing
But the look on her face was quite different
[NATASHA]
Peter Kirilovich
[PIERRE]
Pierre
[NATASHA]
Prince Bolkonsky was your friend—
He is your
friend
He once told me that I should turn to you
[PIERRE]
Pierre sniffed as he looked at her, but
he didn’t speak
’Til then he had reproached her, and tried to despise
her
But now he felt such pity for her
That there was no room in
his soul for reproach
[NATASHA]
He is here now
Tell him to—tell him to forgive
me
[PIERRE]
Yes, I will tell him to forgive you
But, he gave me your letters—
[NATASHA]
No, I know that all is over
I know that it never can
be
But still I’m tormented by the wrongs I’ve done him
Tell him
that I beg him to forgive, forgive
Forgive me for everything
[PIERRE]
Yes I will tell him, tell him everything
But—
But I should like to know one thing
Did you love—
Did you love that bad man?
[NATASHA]
Don’t call him bad
But I don’t know, I don’t know at
all
[PIERRE]
She began to cry
And a greater sense of pity, tenderness, and love overflowed
Pierre’s heart
He felt the tears begin to trickle underneath his
spectacles
And he hoped that no one would see
[PIERRE]
We won’t speak of it anymore
We won’t speak of it,
my dear
But one thing I beg of you, consider me your friend
And if
you ever need help, or simply to open your heart to someone
Not now, but
when your mind is clear
Think of me—
Pierre grew confused
[NATASHA]
Don’t speak to me like that
I am not worth it!
[PIERRE]
Stop, stop, stop!
You have your whole life before
you—
[NATASHA]
Before me? No, all is over for me!
[PIERRE]
All over?
Music stops.
[PIERRE]
If I were not myself
But the brightest,
handsomest
Best man on earth
And if I were free—
I would get
down on my knees this minute
And ask you for your hand
And for your
love
Music resumes.
[NATASHA]
And for the first time in many
days
I weep tears of gratitude
Tears of tenderness
Tears
of thanks
And glancing at Pierre
Oh Pierre
I leave the
room smiling
[PIERRE]
And restraining tears of
tenderness
Tears of joy which choke me
I throw my fur coat on my
shoulders
Unable to find the sleeves
Outside, my great broad chest
Breathes in deep the air with joy
Despite the ten degrees of
frost
And I get into my sleigh