War and Peace: Original Version. Лев Толстой

Чтение книги онлайн.

      The grey-haired valet was dozing in his chair, listening to the count snoring in the huge study. From behind closed doors at the far side of the house, came the sounds of difficult passages, repeated for the twentieth time, in a sonata by Dussek.

      At this moment a carriage and a britzka drove up to the porch and Prince Andrei got out of the carriage, helping his little wife out politely but coldly, as always, and letting her go ahead of him. Grey-haired Tikhon, wearing a wig, stuck his head out of the door of the footman’s room, announced in a whisper that the prince was resting and hastily closed the door. Tikhon knew that neither the arrival of the son of the house nor any other unusual events could be allowed to disrupt the daily routine. Prince Andrei clearly knew this quite as well as Tikhon; he looked at his watch, as if to check whether his father’s habits had changed since the last time he had seen him and, having ascertained that they had not, he addressed his wife.

      “He will get up in twenty minutes. Let us go through to Princess Marya,” he said.

      The little princess had changed in the time that had elapsed. The bulge of her waist had become significantly larger, she bent further backwards now and had become extremely fat, but her eyes were still bright and her short, smiling lip with the faint moustache lifted just as merrily and endearingly when she spoke.

      “But this is a palace!” she said to her husband, looking around with the expression worn by people offering praise to the host at a ball.

      “Let’s go, come on, come on.”

      Looking around, she smiled at Tikhon and her husband and the footman showing them the way.

      “Is that Marie playing? Quiet, let us take her by surprise.”

      Prince Andrei followed her with a courteous, sad expression.

      “You have grown old, Tikhon,” he said as he walked past the old man, who kissed his hand, which he wiped with a fine lawn handkerchief.

      Just before the room from which they could hear the sound of the clavichord, a pretty blonde Frenchwoman skipped out of a side door. Mademoiselle Bourienne seemed quite beside herself with delight.

      “Ah, what a joy for the princess,” she said to them. “At last, I must let her know.”

      “No, no, please … You are Mademoiselle Bourienne; I am already acquainted with you from the friendship that my sister-in-law feels for you,” said the little princess, kissing the Frenchwoman. “She is not expecting us.”

      They approached the door of the divan room, from behind which they could hear the same passage being repeated over and over again. Prince Andrei stopped and frowned, as though in anticipation of something unpleasant.

      Princess Lise went in. The passage broke off in the middle, there was a cry, Princess Marya’s heavy footsteps and the sounds of kissing and muffled voices. When Prince Andrei went in, his wife and his sister, who had only seen each other once for a short time during Prince Andrei’s wedding, were clasped tightly in each other’s arms, still pressing their lips to the same spots which they had found in that first moment. Mademoiselle Bourienne was standing beside them, pressing her hands to her heart and smiling devoutly, obviously equally prepared either to burst СКАЧАТЬ